


ICARUS: Wax Wings | Din Djarin

by endlesssunlitdreams



Series: Icarus | The Mandalorian [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 96,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesssunlitdreams/pseuds/endlesssunlitdreams
Summary: BOOK 2:After leaving Kreios for the first time in five years, Cato is thrust back into a world of war and chaos that chills him to the bone and wakes old memories he’s tried long and hard to forget. But travelling with Din and the newfound Child is enough to dull the pain and make it all worth it. Making new friends, finally admitting he’s in love, and building a family around him, Cato is happier than he ever thought he could be. But the peace can’t last, and after a close call with Imperial remnants, Cato finds himself haunted by the ghosts of his past and the atrocities he’s committed, falling into darkness as the blood rises around him.Now with the task to return the Child to the Jedi, Cato and Din follow vague trails across the galaxy and back, trying to find answers for their son and the mysterious illness that plagues Cato. Old truths about Cato’s past come to light and people he’s tried to forget come back to find him all while darkness looms on the horizon for him.•general warning for Cato being even more unstable.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu, Din Djarin/Original Male Character, The Mandalorian & Baby Yoda
Series: Icarus | The Mandalorian [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152044
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Prelude: Memories in Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato is visited by the ghosts of his childhood while he drifts in an endless expanse of nothingness.

Cato couldn’t see or hear anything. 

Darkness stretched around him in every which way, extending on into infinity. His stomach lurched as he looked around in the darkness, feeling an odd sense of vertigo as his eyes failed to focus on anything around him. 

Fear crept into his heart, making his chest feel tight and his stomach twist with anxiety as oblivion stretched around him in every direction. He tried to quell the fear, forcing himself to take deep breaths and remain calm. He could figure this out. He could find out where he was and how to get back. Back to Din and the Child. 

“Cato,” 

Cato whipped his head around as a sourceless voice whispered his name. 

“Hello…?” Cato said aloud, hesitant to speak. 

“Cato,” the voice repeated, a familiarity tugging incessantly at Cato’s memory as the voice morphed and changed from a voice beyond any mortal being to that of a girl. “Cato, where are you?” She asked, her voice small. “Where did you go?” 

Tears pricked Cato’s eyes and his throat tightened as the voice registered, locking into his memory like a puzzle piece. “I’m here,” he croaked. “I’m here,” 

“Where did you go?” She asked again, voice still sourceless, echoing around Cato so he couldn’t locate her. 

“I—I had to leave,” Cato said, desperate to explain himself. “I had to leave, they were looking for me,” 

“Why didn’t you come back? Did you not love me?” 

Cato felt his lip quiver at the absolute heartbreak in her voice. “I did—,” his voice caught in his throat. “I loved you so much—I still do. I love you ten thousand times over. I tried to come back, you have to believe me, I tried so hard.” He could feel tears slipping down his cheeks as he spoke. “I tried to get back to you. I’m still trying. I love you.” 

Several seconds passed before she spoke again. “I’m waiting,” she said, but her voice sounded far away, no longer sourceless, her voice coming from far to Cato’s right where a small pinprick of light could be seen in the darkness. 

“Where are you?” Cato asked desperately, looking around and hoping to see her. 

“I’m waiting,” she repeated, sounding further away. 

“Wait!” Cato stumbled over his feet as he turned around hastily and started running towards the speck of light. “Where are you?” He called. 

Her voice was so far away now that he couldn’t hear her answer as he sprinted for the light, which was growing rapidly larger with every passing second. 

The light seemed to grow into a doorway in the darkness, Cato running right through it and into the sitting room of a simple home and a memory from his childhood. 

His mother sat in an armchair in the corner, reading a datapad, her brow furrowed slightly and mouth downturned as she read whatever troubling news there was. He wondered what she was reading about. 

His thoughts were quickly extinguished as someone landed a solid slap on the backs of his hands, causing Cato to whip his head around to land his gaze on his younger sister who stood in front of him. 

“I got you!” She cheered. “I finally got you!” She boasted, paying no mind to the peculiar expression on Cato’s face. 

Under normal circumstances, ten-year-old Cato would have sulked and demanded that it didn’t count because he was distracted. But this time, he just stared at his little sister with wide eyes. 

The knock at the door drew his attention immediately, thinking it was peculiar that someone would be knocking on their door so late in the evening. 

His mother looked up from her datapad, startled, with something akin to fear written across her face. She stood quickly and glanced at her children, Cato meeting her eyes for a moment before instinctually withdrawing his hands before Adrestia could slap them again. 

His mother went to the door, shoulders tense, and opened it after a moment’s hesitation. Cato peered past Adrestia to see who was at the door and was intrigued when he saw a cloaked man. 

“Vega Byrd,” Cato had heard the man say. Cato remembered thinking it was strange he had used her old surname, but his thoughts were quickly extinguished as someone said his name sharply.

“Cato,” 

He looked up at his father, not having noticed him enter the room. “Take your sister and go to your room. Lock the door behind you. Do not come out unless your mother or I tell you to, understand?” His father was speaking firmly and quietly, making Cato’s anxiety grow. Something must be wrong. 

But he nodded and stood up, taking Adrestia’s hand and leading her back to their shared room, closing the door behind them and locking it with a press of a button. 

“Who was at the door?” Adrestia asked after a moment, going to sit on her bed. 

Cato shrugged, standing just inside the door. “Dunno. But whoever he is he used mum’s old name.” He chewed on his lip nervously, not knowing what to expect. 

It had been about a year since the Republic fell and the Galactic Empire assumed control of the galaxy, and Cato would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the raised tensions in the household. He wasn’t allowed outside as much anymore, and when he was it was _never_ unsupervised. His parents were wary of guests and had mostly retreated from their social circles, often claiming they were too exhausted or busy to socialise with friends. As a result, this meant that Cato and Adrestia no longer saw their friends very frequently and were often left with only each other as company. 

A few minutes later, a knock on the door startled Cato, but he made no move to open it, shushing Adrestia as she opened her mouth to speak. Together, the two siblings waited on baited breath, the second of silence seeming to stretch into hours. 

“Cato, Adrestia,” it was their mother. “You can come out.” 

Cato quickly unlocked and opened the door, looking into his mother's worried face. 

Catching him looking at her, she quickly covered up her worry with an unreadable mask of mild discontent. “Come, there’s someone here to see you,” she said tersely. 

Adrestia timidly walked up to stand beside Cato, grabbing the hem of his shirt and bunching it up in her fist. Cato glanced down at her and saw his sister’s wide eyes as she stared at their mother, knowing better than to ask what was going on. He had to be strong. 

He nodded silently and stepped out of his and Adrestia’s shared room to follow their mother back to the front of the house, Adrestia trailing behind him. 

Back in the kitchen, Cato saw his father standing by the dining table, tense and grim faced, while the man that Cato had seen at the door sat at the table, his blondish hair damp from the rain that had soaked his cloak. 

As Cato’s mother entered the kitchen—Cato and Adrestia loitering by the entrance partially hidden in shadow—the strange man looked up, standing quickly as they stepped forwards. He made to step towards Cato’s mother, but Cato’s father took a threatening step towards the man, who immediately noticed and took a half step back. 

“Vega, I know this is unexpected, and I’m sorry to show up like this,” the man apologised. 

Cato’s mother nodded and turned around, beckoning Cato forward. He stepped timidly out of the shadows and darted to stand beside his mother, half hiding behind her. He felt Adrestia follow him, holding onto his leg. 

The man looked down at Cato and smiled kindly, but Cato could see a weight in his eyes that he hadn’t seen before. The man crouched down so he was level with Cato. “Hello, Cato,” He said. “I need to talk to you,” 

“You need to tell us why the hell you need to speak to our son,” Cato’s father said lowly, his voice tense and distrusting. 

“Alexon,” Cato’s mother said in a warning tone. 

The man pursed his lips for a moment, then gestured to the table. “Will you talk with me?” He asked. 

Cato looked up to his mother and father, trying to see what he should do. His father was visibly unhappy and apprehensive, but his mother sighed and nodded. She gave Cato a small, encouraging, push towards the table, before taking Adrestia and telling her that it was time for bed, leading her back down the hall. 

Cautiously, Cato pulled out a chair and sat down, watching as the strange man sat down across from him. 

The man sighed heavily, seeming tired. “I suppose you're wondering who I am,” he said, looking at Cato with a slight frown on his face. “My name is Obi Wan Kenobi,” He said. “And I’m here because I need to talk to you,” Cato stayed silent, not daring to speak. Obi Wan sighed a little. “Do you...can you do things that other children can’t?” He asked. “It could be vivid dreams, or intense empathy,” Cato remained silent and stoic, though his thoughts were a flurry of rifling through memories. “Or perhaps being able to convince people of things?” Obi Wan asked, studying Cato. “Do any of these things sound familiar?” 

Cato nodded slowly, then glanced up at his father. However, Alexon no longer seemed angry, but worried and apprehensive. Cato looked back at Obi Wan, who was nodding. 

“Good, good, can you tell me about these things? What happened? How did you feel?” he asked. 

At that moment, Cato’s mother returned, sitting down beside Cato and gesturing for Alexon to sit down as well. 

Cato glanced at his mother and she gave him a reassuring smile, though it was strained and did not reach her eyes. 

“I...see things.” Cato said quietly. 

Obi Wan sat forward slightly, brows knitted together. “Can you tell me what you see?” 

“I see...war.” Cato answered. “I see people dying. I see a man in black with a blade of red light. I see...drawings. Plans.” 

“Drawings?” Obi Wan asked, seeming confused. Cato nodded. “Do you know what they are drawings of?” 

Cato frowned. “It looks like a metal moon.” 

Obi Wan nodded thoughtfully. “Anything else?” He asked. 

Cato bit his lip and glanced at his parents. His mother nodded and after a moment his father gave a single nod as well. 

Turning back to face Obi Wan, Cato locked his gaze on the silverware that stood upright in metal vases on the table. As he concentrated on the silverware, a few slowly began to rise from the cups as if being lifted by invisible thread. 

The movement drew Obi Wan’s attention and a flash of surprise crossed his face as he watched the handful of silverware levitate and then slowly begin to spin end over end, spreading out until there was a small army of slow spinning silverware pinwheels hovering over the table. 

“How long have you been able to do this?” Obi Wan asked. Cato shrugged, lowering the silverware onto the tabletop with an unavoidable clatter. “Are you familiar with the stories of the Jedi?” 

Cato stared at Obi Wan with wide eyes. He nodded. 

“You possess those same abilities and with the right training can follow in their footsteps.” Obi Wan said. And as Cato watched, the silverware began to rise again, though this time not by his doing. The metal utensils spread out further than the table, until they formed a mock asteroid belt around the table. 

Cato stared wide-eyed at Obi Wan who gave him a small smile. “You’re a Jedi?” He asked quietly. 

Obi Wan nodded. “I am. And I can teach you to be one too,” 

“Cato, it’s getting late, it’s time for you to go to bed.” Cato’s father said tersely, standing up. 

“Alexon—,” Cato’s mother tried to reason. 

“No, Vega. We can’t agree to send Cato out into the world right now without a second thought. Not last time, not this time. This is _dangerous_ ,” his father said, his voice growing hushed at the end. Then he turned to Obi Wan. “If you’ll excuse us, but we can’t agree to this yet. We need to discuss what this means for _our son_.” 

<

The Jedi nodded respectfully. “Of course. I understand. But I warn you, time grows short, The Empire—,” 

“Cato, go to your room.” His mother said sharply, turning to look at him. “Go on, go to bed, it’s late.” Cato nodded and slid off his chair, giving his mother a goodnight hug. She held him tighter than normal and a little longer. Then she planted a kiss on his head. “I love you, my little star,” She said, her smile reaching her eyes for once that evening, though a distinct sadness still shone through. “Sweet dreams.” 

“Goodnight, mum,” Cato said quietly. Then he moved to give his father a hug. 

His father scooped him up into his arms easily, holding Cato close. “Sleep well, Cato. I love you.” His father said fondly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then he set Cato down and Cato hurried out into the hall towards his room, though he paused outside the light to listen in a little longer. 

He heard Obi Wan sigh. “The Empire is _looking_ for Force-sensitive kids, and Cato is strong; they _will_ learn about him and they _will_ come for him. He’s not safe here.” he said, his voice a bit more quiet than before. “Please, let me take him. I can take him somewhere safe and train him. He could be the key to defeating the Empire.” 

“You want me to send our son away to become a soldier? You want me to send him into a war?” Cato heard his father ask. “I can’t agree to that. I will _not_ risk my son’s life. He’s only ten. He’s still a child, he needs his family. He needs a childhood.” 

“I understand, but please, I do not wish for him or any of you to get hurt and I cannot promise that you won’t if he stays here. The Empire is ruthless. Please, just consider it.”  
Cato heard his mother sigh. “I believe you, but we need more time to think.” she said. “We have a guest room where you can stay until we have reached our decision.” 

“Vega—,” his father began to protest. 

“Alexon, my _cyare_ , please...we have to trust him. And if you refuse to, then trust me. I know Obi Wan, I trust his word.” She said. 

They continued to talk, but Cato crept away, going back to his and Adrestia’s room. He climbed into his bed and pulled the covers over his head, and hugged the loth cat plush toy he had to his chest, holding the old toy as close as he could while tears began to leak out of his eyes at the overwhelming information he had just heard.

 _I don’t want to go._ He thought to himself. _I don’t want to go, I don’t want—_


	2. In Sickness & in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato awakes after days of unconsciousness, mind adrift in the endless sea of oblivion.

Cato woke up freezing, shivering violently despite the sweat that drenched his clothes and the blankets he lay under. His chest and lungs hurt as his body was wracked with choked sobs, and his cheeks were damp with tears. 

Fumbling around in the dark, Cato managed to roll off whatever makeshift bed he had been laying on and onto the icy cold metal floor. He stood quickly, suddenly feeling lightheaded as he found his footing, swaying on his feet as his visual of the nearly pitch-black room warped and doubled. Cato stumbled backwards until he hit a wall, pressing his back to it and closing his eyes until the sickening sensation passed. 

A few seconds went by and the feeling subsided a bit to a bearable point and he opened his eyes, now thinking a little more clearly and recognising the interior of the _Razor Crest_. Stumbling over to the bed he had been sleeping in, Cato grabbed one of the heavy blankets from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape and then stumbled towards the opposite wall, trailing his hands along the wall to his right to keep him steady. 

It was odd, it didn’t feel like a wall, it wasn’t the same metal and it was covered in ridges and grooves. Cato stumbled around the room, trailing his hand along the walls in search for a door. When he finally found it a few seconds later, he almost fell through it, as there was no _door_ on it, just a cloth curtain. 

Carefully, Cato pushed the curtain aside and stepped over the seemingly misplaced crate in front of the doorway, wincing at the dim lights in the cargo hold that seemed bright enough to rival the sun. He stumbled forward, his stomach flipping as his whole perspective warped for a moment and his vision spun. 

When Cato managed to get both hands on the opposite wall, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he looked over his shoulder at the room he had come from—because there were no proper rooms in the bay of the _Crest_ —and found that metal partitions and stacked cargo crates created an actual, proper, room. 

Cato found it odd, but didn’t dwell on it, only thinking about finding Din. He continued slowly and feebly across the cargo bay to the ladder to the cockpit where he managed to pull himself up the rungs, only the thought of seeing Din giving him any willpower to succeed. 

When he finally reached the door to the cockpit, he almost fell through it, forgetting in his hazy state of mind that it opened automatically. Luckily he just barely managed to catch himself before he could crash to the floor again. 

“Cato?” 

As he steadied himself on the wall again, he noticed that he felt oddly fatigued. He groaned and closed his eyes as his stomach flipped and the lights from the cockpit hurt his head. And stars, he was so _cold_. He was still shivering and shaking like a leaf in a storm, the heavy blanket around his shoulders doing little to quell the chill he felt. 

A firm set of hands were suddenly on him, helping steady him, one one his shoulder and the other on his waist. Cato could barely feel anything as the hand that had been on his shoulder moved up to cup his cheek, turning his head slightly. 

“—Cato? Can you hear me?” he heard Din ask, voice drowned out by a high pitched ringing in his ears that he hadn’t even noticed until then. 

Cato groaned again and opened his eyes despite the painful light that seemed to pierce right behind his eyes. His vision slowly came into a focus and he found Din standing in front of him, half supporting Cato. 

“W-what—?” Cato started to ask, only to break off as his ability to verbalise his thoughts seemed to dissolve. He just looked up into Din’s helmet, eyes squinted against the light. He could see himself in the reflection of Din’s visor, and he wasn’t sure if it was just the nature of the reflection, but he looked seriously ill. His face seemed a bit more sallow than usual, his eyes more sunken, and his hair was unkempt and sticking to his face. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked, sounding worried. “You still look sick,” he said. 

Cato just groaned, shivering and pulling the blanket tighter around him. “I’m...fine,” he managed to say. “Just...cold, is all.” Din didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just looking at Cato. “Where—? Where...the baby? Is he okay?” Cato asked, his sentences coming out in broken pieces barely strung together. 

“He’s fine—though I can’t say the same for you,” Din assured with a slight bite of snark. 

“Where…where is he?” 

“Sleeping, as you should be.” The Mandalorian said in a pointed tone. Cato shook his head, trying to deny it, but even that motion made his head spin. “You need to _rest_ ,” Din said firmly, helping Cato into one of the chairs behind the pilot’s. 

Cato’s head lolled against the back of the chair, unable to find the energy to fight the growing migraine in his skull. 

Din crouched in front of Cato, one hand holding Cato’s clammy ones, and the other on the side of his neck and jaw, forcing Cato to look at him. “You’re cold?” He asked, seeming to try to get Cato to confirm what he had said earlier. Cato nodded weakly, drawing the blanket tighter around him. 

Carefully, Din let go of Cato, peeling off one of his gloves, pushing Cato’s damp hair out of his face to rest the back of his bare hand against Cato’s forehead. He left it there for a moment and Cato relished in the feeling of touching him, even if he was so sick out of his mind that he barely noticed it. 

A moment later Din removed his hand and replaced his glove, standing with a heavy sigh. 

“You have a fever,” he announced. “Still,” he added quietly. 

Cato tried to say he was fine, but the words just came out as a mumbled mush. 

Din cupped Cato’s cheek, gently running a thumb over his cheekbone. “You need to rest.” He said softly.

A shiver was his response. 

The Mandalorian sighed. “We need to get you warm,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible. Din stood up from his crouched position and went to the pilot’s seat, sitting down and starting to flip switches. “There’s an uninhabited moon nearby, I’m going to land there for the night.” he told Cato, entering a new set of coordinates into the _Crest_ ’s database. 

Cato gave a nod, but he was already drifting away again, staring blankly out the viewports as his thoughts grew fuzzy and he fell into a timeless space between sleep and unconsciousness. 

What seemed like a couple seconds passed in silence, and then Din was helping Cato to his feet again, wrapping an arm around Cato’s waist to keep him upright. Cato blinked as he partially emerged from the fog, realising that the _Crest_ was on solid ground, tall trees visible outside the ship, stretching up towards the night sky. Cato stared for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the misjudgement of time. Then together, Din and Cato left the cockpit, slowly heading back into the cargo hold. 

Cato was surprised though when Din dragged him into the small room—practically a closet—that housed the ‘fresher. 

“What—?” Cato croaked as Din began to fiddle with the controls, leaving Cato to lean against a nearby wall just inside the door to the room. 

“The blanket didn’t seem to do much and you said you were cold,” Din answered simply, stepping back as a spray of water began to rain down from the shower head. 

“Will that work?” Cato asked weakly, too fatigued to sound properly skeptical. 

“Not sure, but we’ll try,” Din answered shortly, removing a glove to test the water, which was starting to fog up the small room with steam. 

Cato had previously been under the impression that the _Crest_ didn’t _have_ hot water, but maybe it was a more recent development. Or maybe he wasn’t remembering properly. 

As the water got up to temperature, Din helped Cato out of his clothes that were sticky with sweat and stained with dirt and dried blood, the latter of which Cato pretended not to see. 

A minute or two later and Cato stood completely bare, still shivering and supporting himself with a hand on the wall. 

Carefully, Din helped Cato over to the door of the ‘fresher and through it, into the spray of hot water. 

Cato almost immediately abandoned standing as another wave of dizziness crashed over him, sending his hands flailing around in search of an anchor, one bracing himself against the wall and the other grabbing Din’s forearm, which was missing the vambraces and had the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Cato slowly sank down to the floor as his vision swam, eventually just sitting down and pulling his knees up to his chest, letting the hot water droplets wash away the grime that coated him. 

A couple seconds passed and Cato felt Din’s bare hands begin to run across his back gently, tracing shapes and symbols whose meanings were lost on Cato. As he stared through half lidded eyes at the water droplets chasing each other down the metal wall in front of him, he felt Din’s touch leave for a second, returning a moment later to rub soap across Cato’s back. 

Cato stared absently at the wall, letting his memories wash over him. What had transpired on Nevarro with Moff Gideon, nearly losing Din, the pile of Mandalorian armour, meeting the Armourer, IG-11’s sacrifice, the death of Kuiil, and the moments before Cato had lost consciousness. Then the strange dream he had experienced while unconscious. The memory from his childhood, the evening he had met Obi Wan Kenobi. Seeing his family again—even just in memory—hurt far more than he was willing to admit. 

He had spent _so_ long mourning and trying to move on after the destruction of Alderaan. It took him years to finally accept it and move past. But just like that, the wound was fresh all over again. 

Vaguely, he noticed that Din had switched from washing his back to washing his hair, massaging the soap into his unruly mop of curls. 

Eventually, Cato’s shivering seemed to have ceased for the most part, and the skin around the tips of his fingers was starting to turn whitish and wrinkle. 

Out of the ‘fresher and at least feeling cleaner, Cato felt a little better. He was still cold, but it seemed less like a chill in his bones. His head still hurt, vision still wavering from time to time, but his thoughts were less foggy, though only by a fraction. 

Din turned off the ‘fresher and bundled Cato up in the blanket, leading him back towards the odd room he had woken up in, one arm wrapped around him to keep him steady, and the other holding his vambraces.

In the tiny makeshift room, Cato allowed Din to help dress him, using some of Din’s old clothes that had been packed away in a crate. Cato did his best to be helpful, but his movements were still groggy and weak. 

After being dressed, Cato was helped over to the bed, which was little more than a bedroll laid on the floor. Once in bed, Din piled a couple blankets on Cato, then brushed his damp hair out of his face gently. 

“Will you be okay for a few minutes?” He asked quietly. 

Cato nodded, trying to give a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine,” he answered, his voice sounding strained and weak even to himself. 

Din nodded and gave one of Cato’s hands a gentle squeeze before leaving the room, the curtain falling shut behind him and the faint sounds of his footsteps leading away. 

A few moments passed in silence, Cato staring at the ceiling of the _Crest_ , afraid to let himself nod off for fear of what else would be dredged up from his memories. There were a lot of things he didn’t want to remember or think about too much. 

However, he was saved as the curtain on the door was pushed back and Din returned, holding a few items in his arms and the Child’s pod floating in after him. Cato could see the green bat-eared child standing in his pod and gurgling as they approached the bed. The Child let out a delighted coo and reached a tiny three fingered hand out towards Cato as the pram approached the bed. 

“He’s been sneaking around the ship trying to get to you. I had to put that crate in front of the door so he wouldn’t get in.” Din said, an unmistakable note of fondness in his voice. “He missed  
you.” he added, and Cato heard the unspoken words. _We both did_. 

Cato managed to summon a weak smile, reaching out a pale and slightly trembling hand to gently touch the Child’s own outstretched hand. As soon as their skin touched, the Child wrapped his hands around Cato’s finger, gently enough that it caused no discomfort, but tightly enough to dissuade Cato from pulling away. The Child’s ears drooped suddenly and the toothy smile he had been supporting fell away, replaced by an expression that Cato thought resembled one of sadness and confusion. The Child let out a sad coo, almost questioning. 

“ _Kaysh e n’jahaal, ad’ika. A kaysh ven ganar jahaal, mhi ven baatir par kaysh,_ ” Din murmured as he lifted the Child out of the pram and set him on the blankets, making sure not to disturb the Child’s grip on Cato. Cato managed another smile at Din’s words, telling the Child that while Cato was sick, the baby and Din would take care of him.

The Child cooed again and waddled closer, almost losing his balance on the uneven blankets a few times. He stood right by Cato’s face, staring down at him with his huge eyes that seemed black in the dim light, but that Cato knew to hold hues of gold and amber. 

Cato felt the bed shift slightly as Din sat on the edge, shuffling a couple items around. 

The Child stared at Cato with large curious eyes for a few long seconds, and then he reached a hand out to rest it on Cato’s cheek, rubbing it gently with slightly awkward back-and-forth motions. Cato let out a weak, breathless laugh, raising his free hand to rub the tips of the Child’s ears. “Thank you, _ad’ika_ ,” he said quietly. 

The Child still seemed uneasy about Cato’s state and closed his eyes, stilling his hand’s movements. Cato felt a comfortable warmth on his cheek where the Child was still touching him. Before the Child could exert any substantial amount of energy, Cato gently removed the small hand from his cheek, breaking the connection. The Child opened his eyes and tilted his head at Cato, cooing quietly. 

“It's okay, little one.” Cato told him. “Don’t waste your energy on me, I’ll be okay.” he tried to reassure the Child, who he wasn’t even sure could understand him. “Besides, you and your _buir_ are going to take good care of me, right?” he added, in an attempt to lighten the mood slightly. 

The Child gurgled and stopped his attempt at trying to heal Cato, albeit dejectedly. 

“ _Ad’ika, k’olar epar_ ,” Din beckoned the Child, holding out an unwrapped ration bar. The Child gurgled and took the handful of steps it took to reach Din and the food. He took the bar and sat down with a little _whump_ , staring at a small hole in the top blanket as he began to gnaw on the bar. “ _Cyare, tion’narir gar copaanir epar?_ ” Din asked, drawing Cato’s attention away from the Child. 

Cato declined the offer of food, his stomach flipping at the mere thought of eating right now. Din nodded in understanding and set the other ration packets he had brought down on the bed, instead reaching for a canteen of water. He held it out to Cato, who shook his head. Din didn’t make any movement to retract his offer, staring at Cato with a slightly tilted head. 

“You need to drink, _cyare_.” he said firmly. 

When Cato didn’t move, he shifted closer, reaching a hand behind Cato’s head to lift him slightly so he could drink. Begrudgingly, Cato accepted this and took a sip from the canteen, realising how dry his throat was the moment he did. He continued to carefully sip the water, eventually stopping far sooner than he would have liked because he felt bad for making Din hold the canteen _and_ hold him up. 

Din gently lowered Cato back onto the pillows then screwed the canteen lid in place, setting it on the floor by the bed. 

The Child eventually finished eating and meandered over to curl up in the crook of Cato’s arm, letting out a sleepy yawn. Cato began to gently trace small spirals on his head and along the length of his large pointed ears. The Child’s eyes began to droop as Cato continued his gentle pattern tracing and soon enough he was fast asleep. 

A few minutes passed in near silence, the only sounds being the quiet breaths of the small family and the occasional shifting of movement. 

Cato looked up at Din, who still sat—still mostly armoured—a few feet away, just watching the two. 

“Are you going to lay down?” Cato asked hoarsely. 

Din was quiet for a moment. “You two need rest. I’ll keep watch and plot our next course.” he said eventually. 

Cato frowned. “You should rest,” He tried to argue. Silence stretched between them for a few moments before a sudden thought came to Cato. “How long have I been asleep?” He asked, suddenly realising he had no idea how long it had been since they left Nevarro. 

“Almost four days.” 

Unsure of how to respond, Cato just pursed his lips, contemplating this new information. 

“I was worried.” Din said after a moment, his voice sounding smaller than usual. “I was…” he took a deep breath. “Scared.” he admitted. “I didn’t know what had happened, if you’d be alright. I was so scared when you didn’t wake up. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t risk—,” he broke off, leaving Cato to interpret his words. 

Cato reached his free hand out towards Din, who clasped it gently. “I’m awake now, and I’ll be okay. It’d just the aftereffects of everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.” Cato whispered. “Now, _please_ lay down and rest. If it’s true you haven’t slept in three days then you need rest the most.” 

“I should run inventory—,” 

“Din, please.” Cato whispered, pleading. “If not for yourself then for me. I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you.” 

Whether it was the use of his name, alternative reasoning, or simply because he didn’t want to fight it, Din caved and accepted Cato’s wishes. He shed his weapons and the majority of his remaining armour before crawling on top of the blankets to lay beside Cato, leaving a cushion of space between them to accommodate the sleeping Child. 

A comfortable silence fell, one that eventually lulled Cato into a shallow sleep, dreamless and not quite restful. 

What must have been hours later, Cato’s mind drifted groggily to consciousness, drawn by the sound of a low murmuring. He shifted slightly and cracked open one of his eyes, seeing the slight change in density of shadow near the edge of the bed, showing the barely discernible silhouette of Din setting the Child in his pram. 

“ _—Chaab. Kaysh e kotyc, al bah haa’taylir kaysh as ibic e su urakto. Ni nution’narir meg ni r’ven tion’narir meh vaviir r’banar bah kaysh, ad’ika. Bah ebin be gar._ ” he heard Din say, presumably talking to the sleeping Child. Cato sleepily registered the translation, hearing what Din had said. 

_—Afraid. He is strong, but to see him like this is still hard. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him, ad’ika. To either of you._

A few seconds passed before Din spoke again. “ _Ni draar r’mirdir ni r’ven ganar aliit tug’yc. Naasad as ibic._ ” _I never thought I’d have a family again. Not like this._ “ _Ni vercopa...ni vercopa…_ ” _I hope...I hope…_

Din didn’t finish his sentence, instead Cato heard the rustling of movement and then the dip in the mattress as he crawled back in bed, this time lifting the covers to get under them instead of laying on top. Cato felt Din shift closer and then his arms wrapped around Cato’s torso to pull him into Din’s chest, the Mandalorian burying his unhelmeted face in Cato’s hair with a soft sigh. “ _Anay vokaa be ni ganir bah gar. Ni ven’va ti gar ‘kay cuun taakure vheh, bal ni ven’va ti gar chaashya vaal cuun vheh gotal’ur kare. Cuun ulur ven venmiit’ganar o’r te karnau._ ” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Cato’s head. 

_Every fiber of me belongs to you. I will go with you till our bones are dust, and I will go with you further as our dust builds stars. Our love will be written in starlight._

To dust and starlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked up on this part and forgot that taking hot showers when you have a fever is BAD. Oh well...it's space so it's fine...?
> 
> Mano'a translations:  
> Kaysh e n’jahaal, ad’ika. A kaysh ven ganar jahaal, mhi ven baatir par kaysh: He's sick, little one. But he'll get better. We'll take care of him.  
> Ad'ika, k'olar epar: Little one, come eat  
> Cyare, tion’narir gar copaanir epar: Beloved, do you want food?  
> —Chaab. Kaysh e kotyc, al bah haa’taylir kaysh as ibic e su urakto. Ni nution’narir meg ni r’ven tion’narir meh vaviir r’banar bah kaysh, ad’ika. Bah ebin be gar: —Afraid. He is strong, but to see him like this is still hard. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him, ad’ika. To either of you.  
> Ni draar r’mirdir ni r’ven ganar aliit tug’yc. Naasad as ibic: I never thought I'd have a family again. Not like this.  
> Ni vercopa: I hope  
> Anay vokaa be ni ganir bah gar. Ni ven’va ti gar ‘kay cuun taakure vheh, bal ni ven’va ti gar chaashya vaal cuun vheh gotal’ur kare. Cuun ulur ven venmiit’ganar o’r te karnau: Every fiber of me belongs to you. I will go with you till our bones are dust, and I will go with you further as our dust builds stars. Our love will be written in starlight.


	3. II: The Search Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While looking for Gor Koresh, Din finds an odd artisan who claims to have something that will help Cato.

Din moved through the outdoor market silently, ever alert and acutely aware of the people that filled the twisting alley of vendors. The Child floated in his pod beside Din, looking out at the bustle of people and the countless vendors crammed together in the alley, ever curious. 

The market thrummed with life, a cacophony of different languages being shouted over each other created a muddled white noise, shopkeepers shouting and waving at passers by in hopes of convincing them to lend their patronage. The hiss of flames and the sizzling of cooking oil and fats also mixed in as the Mandalorian passed by rows of open fire pits where people were cooking hunks of meat on spits over the open flame. 

The alley was brightly lit, large industrial lights affixed atop large poles bathed the area in a harsh white light in addition to the daylight, a protection from the glowing red eyes that Din caught a glance of in the shadows every once in a while. 

Din was in the area looking for a man by the name of Gor Koresh, but when Cato didn’t wake up that morning, his skin losing the small amount of luster it had regained and seeming to swing between cool to the touch—almost ghastly—and feverish, his breathing shallow, and not seeming to have a reaction to any of the medicines Din had access to, he decided he needed to look for something to help. 

A few minutes passed, Din and the Child still moving through the market, searching for—not a particular booth, but particular wares. Every once in a while, Din would take a step towards a vendor that sold vials of strange liquid and sketchy medical equipment, always moving on after noting they didn’t have what he needed (or if they did it was far too shady to even think about risking it). 

Eventually, they came across a vendor cast in shadow, which was peculiar to say the least, given the general aversion to shaded spaces. Racks of vials and dried herbs and little tins cluttered the vendor and Din could see someone moving around inside. 

Curious, he approached, stepping to the edge of the shadows, a couple yards from the front of the vendor. 

_“You’re looking for something, Mandalorian.”_ the shopkeep said in Huttese, not even turning around from whatever she was doing at the table. “Tell me, what do you seek?” She asked. 

Din paused a moment, translating what she had said and how he wanted to respond, his Huttese not as good as it could be. _“Medicine.”_ He answered, hoping she could help him. 

_“Medicine,”_ she nodded, short, ratty brown hair bobbing at the motion. _“Many sell medicine, but you did not go to them, you came to me. What did they not have? What medicine do you search for?”_ She still did not turn around, busying herself with whatever she was putting together at the table. 

_“My...friend, he’s very sick. I tried to give him medicine but it did nothing. I need something different. Can you help me?”_ Din asked, noting that it felt strange and...wrong to call Cato his _‘friend’_ now, when they had been through so much together and were so much more to each other. 

_“Different? I can help with different.”_ She nodded, grinding something together on the table. _“Your friend, you love him?”_

Caught off guard, Din struggled to find an answer. _“I–I don’t—,”_

The bizarre woman cut him off with a chuckle. _“There are many types of love, Mandalorian, do not be so spooked,”_ she said. _“The love between lovers is only one. The love between friends and family can be as equally strong. I have met many travellers who would just as take a fatal blow for a brother or friend as they or others would for a lover. The bond between friends is strong, just as is a bond between lovers.”_ She paused. _“Or the bond between father and son.”_

Din stiffened at the final part, instinctually moving his hand ever so slightly in front of the Child’s pram. _“I want him safe. Can you help me, or not?” He asked, dodging the specifics of her question._

_The woman hummed, still working. _“I can help. But your friend is sick with something that I can’t heal so simply, so my help is limited.”_ _

__“What do you—? How do you know? You’ve never met,”_ Din was growing suspicious of this strange woman, her uncanny ability to guess or know things was disconcerting and the fact she had yet to face him was starting to get creepy. _

__“I can sense it on you, the residue of this sickness clings to you, though it will not harm you or anyone else,”_ she let out a low hum. _“Yes, this is not just a sickness of the body. Your friend will get worse if untreated.”_ She dusted off her hands and grabbed whatever she had been working on, turning around to face the Mandalorian and his son. _

_The sight was at first just shocking and then a bit creepy and then more and more unnerving the longer Din looked._

_The woman was rather young, skin only just starting to show age. She smiled dreamily at Din, staring at him with white, ruined eyes. There was no pupil or iris discernible, just milky white eyes with no lids, the skin around them being a scarred mess of chemical burns that seemed to have melted the skin in places so it looked like candle wax melting off the bone._

_Din surveyed her, wondering what had caused this damage to her. He also began to wonder if he should’ve come over here, the oddness of the situation bringing up a feeling of danger._

__“This is what I can do to help,”_ The woman interrupted Din’s thoughts, holding up a vial of murky blue liquid that Din hadn’t noticed she was holding. _“This will help abate the illness, buy your friend some time.”_ Din didn’t like those words, _‘buy your friend some time’_ , it made it seem like Cato was dying and that thought alone opened a pit of despair deep in Din’s chest. _“But I must warn you, it will not cure him. It will only help ease the pain.”_ _

__“How long will it last?”_ Din asked, eyeing the vial which was only about as tall as his index finger. _

__“I don’t know. People respond differently. You will have to determine yourself how long each dosage will last, and trust me, you will know when it has worn off.”_ the woman said, absentmindedly pulling a twig and several pieces of dried grass from her messy hair. _

__“Dosage? How much is a dosage?”_ _

_She shrugged, moving her fingers over the vial and looking back towards the table she had been working at. _“A couple drops. Three is a good number, but it’s not an exact science. Just put a few drops in a glass of water and have him drink it, the water helps dilute the taste.”_ _

_Din pursed his lips, debating whether or not this was worth the risk. _“How do I know you're not a con artist?”_ he asked after a brief pause. _“How do I know it’s not poison?”_ _

__“I am many things, Mandalorian, but I am first and foremost an altruist. I strive to help people when they have nowhere else to turn. The choice is yours, but just know that the clock is ticking and this,”_ She held up the vial. _“Is the only thing that can help your friend right now. I know a lot of things and a lot of people, so trust me when I say that I am the only one here who can help.”_ as she spoke, her voice—which had previously been light and airy, albeit a bit detached—grew darker and more firm, a sternness that came from past experience seeping into her voice. _

_Din clenched his jaw, painfully aware of the woman’s choice of words about Cato’s condition— ' _the clock is ticking_ ’, ‘ _the only thing that can help your friend_ ’, ‘ _it will not cure him_ ’, ‘ _only help ease the pain_ ’, ‘ _this is not a sickness of the body_ ’. Swallowing his mounting anxiety, Din nodded, deciding his course of action. _“I’m looking for something else as well, maybe you can help.”_ _

_The woman tilted her head curiously. _“What are you looking for? I’ve talked to many people who know a lot of little things, so I know quite a lot of things.”_ She gave a crooked smile. _

__“I’m looking to return this child to his kind. Have you ever seen anyone like him?”_ Din asked, gesturing to the Child, who looked up at him and then at the woman, giving a curious coo. _

__“Well, I can’t_ see _anything anymore, but…”_ She turned her head side to side and then locked her milky white eyes on the Child. She stared for a few long seconds and then hummed. _“Peculiar, I don’t recognise this little fellow.”_ She frowned slightly. _“I have not encountered anyone like him before.”_ _

__“Have you seen any other Mandalorians? I need to find some.”_ Din asked, hoping she could provide some information. _

_He was disappointed though, when she shrugged and shook her head. _“You're the only Mandalorian I’ve seen in a long time. Sorry I can’t help with that.”_ she tousled her hair, still frowning slightly. _“Well, here is the medicine.”_ She held out the vial of blue liquid. _“I hope your friend lives well,”_ _

_Din took the vial from her outstretched hand, slipping it into a pocket. _“How much for it?”_ He asked, already reaching for credits. _

_The woman just scoffed and waved him off. _“Free of charge, it’s been a long time since I couldn’t answer a question.”_ she said. _“Your companions are strange ones, Mandalorian. I hope you find what you are looking for.”_ Then she gave a small wave and turned around, going back to work at one of the tables, clearly ending the transaction. _

__“Thank you,”_ Din said simply before turning and walking back into the heart of the market, heading to the location he had been given for Gor Koresh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I figured out how to do italics
> 
> At some point I'll go back and put in the italics all through book 1 up through right now, but I don't have the energy for that right now.


	4. III: Mos Pelgo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Headed back to the sand planet in search of the Mandalorian Din was told is residing in Mos Pelgo.

The darkness that shrouded Cato was thick and unwavering, keeping him locked in the recesses of his subconscious. Oblivion stretched on around him forever—or maybe it wrapped so tightly around his vision that the world was still in perfect clarity around him but he himself was trapped in darkness. Whatever the case, Cato had no gauge of how much time had passed. It could have been hours, days, or seconds, but with nothing to gauge the passage of time Cato was in the dark—literally. He had tried counting the seconds, but found that the numbers and thought process didn’t fit together, his mind and senses disjointed and out of sync with each other.

That being the case, when the darkness finally started to thin, Cato had no way of knowing how much time had passed. But all the same, the darkness cleared and Cato opened his eyes, squinting and blinking against the light. 

Cato groaned, shifting on the makeshift bed, his body seemed to creak and pop as if it were a rusted machine moving for the first time in decades. 

“Cato,” 

Din sat on the floor beside Cato, hunched over as he watched over the sleeping man, but now sitting up as Cato stirred. 

“Din,” Cato rasped, propping himself up on his elbows and using his hand to block the dim light of the cargo bay. 

“You’re awake,” The Mandalorian said, though it sounded almost like a question. 

Cato groaned and looked down at himself. “I think so,” He agreed. 

“How do you feel?” 

It took a moment for Cato to consider. He felt a bit chilly, but in comparison to the comparatively hypothermic state he had been in last time he was conscious, this was an improvement. Cato nodded slowly. “Better,” He said slowly, almost hesitant to admit it in case it jinxed it. “Not...completely, but better. I feel...heavy. Lethargic.” he shook out his arm a little, the limb feeling leaden and clumsy. “Head hurts a bit, but by comparison, it’s nothing.” Cato pursed his lips and clicked his tongue. “Weird taste in my mouth,” He noted. “Tastes like…” He clicked his tongue a few more times, trying to name it. “Dirt.” 

“That’s probably the medicine,” Din informed. 

Cato looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “You got me medicine that tastes like dirt?” He asked skeptically. 

Din nodded. “It’s a long story that I’ll tell you later. For now just…” He trailed off, shoulders slumping forwards, adding to the air of utter exhaustion that Cato was starting to pick up on. “Just...promise me you’ll tell me if you start feeling sick again. I can’t—,” his voice broke, and Cato felt an ache as he realised how hard all this was for the Mandalorian. Din took a shuddering breath. “I _can’t_ —,” he broke off again, and Cato could hear his ragged breaths through the helmet modulator. “Can I—? I need—,” Cato wasn’t completely sure what Din was trying to say, but he nodded. 

“Yeah, whatever you need,” He said, wincing slightly as he sat up fully, watching the Mandalorian with a concerned gaze. 

Din nodded. “I–I...thanks—thank you,” he mumbled out, pressing a couple buttons on his vambrace that caused the lights to blink out, leaving them in complete darkness. Cato blinked, a jolt of momentary fear coursed through him at the almost familiar expansive darkness, but he quickly dismissed it, knowing that this was not that oblivion but merely the interior of the _Razor Crest_. 

There was the clink of metal on metal, a familiar sound that told Cato Din had just removed his helmet. Cato squeezed his eyes shut despite the darkness, not willing to risk anything, and carefully reached out towards where Din had been sitting. 

His hands fumbled in the darkness for a moment before meeting a warm pair of hands that wrapped around his and pulled him closer. Cato was gently crushed against Din’s armoured chest as he held Cato tightly, a faint tremor in his body that Cato could feel plain as day. 

“Din?” Cato whispered, maneuvering himself so he was more comfortable and finding Din’s face by delicately tracing his fingertips up the Mandalorian’s neck to his jaw. His fingertips brushed over Din’s cheek and he found that they were damp. “Din? What’s wrong? What happened?” Cato asked quietly. 

He felt Din take a shuddering breath and press his head forward so that their foreheads rested together. “I—,” He sucked in a breath. “I was so scared,” he whispered. “ _So_ scared. I–I couldn’t—,” he held Cato a bit tighter. “Before...when you were hurt on Tatooine, or when you...died on Sorgan, it...I…” he paused, searching for the words. “It made sense.” He said slowly. “It was something I could understand, something I could fix. But—,” his voice broke again and Cato felt tears hit his thumbs that were rubbing gently across Din’s cheeks. “But when I—when I found you...bleeding and unconscious I...didn’t—I didn’t know what to _do_. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t...I couldn’t touch you or you would start screaming. And then y-you were sick for days and you wouldn’t wake up, I—I was so scared.” he rambled, voice straining at the painful memories. “When you woke up I was so hopeful that you would get better, that this would pass, but then after you fell asleep again that night you wouldn’t wake up. I tried...I tried every medicine I had, I tried everything I could think of.” Din shuddered again. “And then...I went to go find someone, to help me find other Mandalorians, and I ended up talking with someone who said she could help. She—she said it would only get worse if left untreated and that it wasn’t...wasn’t a sickness of the body. She seemed so certain, and the...the way she was saying it...she...I was so scared you were dying. I was so, _so_ scared,” He whispered hoarsely, holding Cato even closer. 

Cato felt a heavy weight press into his chest, a stone of guilt and sorrow at the grief he had caused. 

“I didn’t— I don’t know...I don’t know what I would have done,” Din murmured. “I don’t know if I could have…” He trailed off, not finishing the dooming sentence. 

“I’m here, I’m back,” Cato whispered, trying to be as comforting as possible. “I’m back and I’m better and I’m not leaving. I’m not going to die.” Cato promised. 

Din shook his head. “The medicine isn’t a cure. She said...she said I only bought you time.” he whispered, voice deathly quiet. He pulled back slightly, letting go of the death-grip hug he had 

Cato in to hold Cato’s face in his hands. “But I’ll find a cure. I’ll find a way to fix this. I can’t...I _can’t_ let anything happen to you. You are _everything_ to me.” he said insistently. 

Din leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Cato’s lips. Cato could taste tears in the kiss, but he didn’t care, just kissed back. They broke apart a second or two later and Din dropped his head so that his face was nestled in the crook of Cato’s neck. 

“ _Ni ven akaanir kyr’am ni’ast royut ni duumir gar ba’slanar_ ,” He whispered hoarsely, the words similar to something he had said to Cato on Arvala VII, which seemed like a lifetime ago. 

_I will fight Death myself before I let you go._

☀︎︎ 

The bright and insistent sun of Tatooine greeted Cato as he and Din stepped out of the _Crest_ into the familiar hangar in Mos Eisley. 

Cato squinted against the light to the point that his eyes were, for all intensive purposes, closed, keeping the brunt of the light from seering his eyes and worsening the dull headache he had been growing accustomed to. 

“—Hey, hey!” Peli was reprimanding the pit droids that were scurrying towards the crest. “Sorry gang! Come on guys, you know he doesn’t like droids,” She said, halting the droids who looked back at her and chittered in agreement. 

“May as well let them have at it, the Crest needs a good once-over,” Din said, to the surprise of everyone present. 

“Oh! So he likes droids now,” Peli grumbled, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Well, you heard him, give it a once-over!” She said, waving the pit droids back as Din and Cato approached. Cato saw the blurry block of colour that he knew to be Peli turn to face them. “Glad to see you're on your feet and well. How are you holding up?” she asked. 

A pause that stretched a couple seconds too long ended with Din tapping Cato’s shoulder lightly. “She’s talking to you.” he informed, a note of amusement in his voice. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” Cato scrambled to fill in the awkward silence he had left. “I’m fine, I’m good, I’m...yeah,” 

“Uh huh,” Peli said, seeming unconvinced. “What’s with not opening your eyes? You get hit with acid or somethin’?” She asked. 

“No, just...recovering from being ill. Bright sunlight will take a little while for me to get used to.” Cato explained. 

“Huh,” Peli said, sounding like she didn’t totally get it. Which, if Cato lived on Tatooine his whole life he was sure he wouldn’t have understood the concept of getting used to bright sunlight either. “Well,” she turned her attention away from Cato’s odd ailments and went back to addressing both of them. “I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos...oh ho!” She trailed off and cheered and Cato felt Din shuffle around the bag he was carrying the child in so that Peli could see him. “Thank the Force!” she exclaimed. “This little thing,” Cato could hear the shuffling of fabric as the Child was removed from the satchel. “Has had me worried _sick_! Come here, you little womp rat!” She said affectionately. 

The Child cooed, making Peli chuckle. “It looks like he remembers me,” She said. “How much do you want for it? Just kidding. But not really.” Cato let out an amused scoff. “You know if this thing ever divides or buds, I will gladly pay for the offspring,” She informed them. 

The sound of hissing behind them drew everyone’s attention, Cato flinching at opening his eyes on instinct. 

“Hey!” Peli shouted at the smudged shapes Cato could see that soon sharpened into the pit droids that were being dragged around by one of the pressure hoses. “Watch what you're doing up there! He barely trusts your kind! Do you want to give all droids a bad name?” She questioned. “Thank you,” she dismissed, turning back to Din and Cato, the latter of whom was starting to get used to the light without frying his eyes or brain, blinking rapidly and still squinting a bit. 

“We’re here on business and need your help,” Din said, getting to the point of their visit. 

“Ah, well then business you shall have,” Peli looked down at the child. “Care for me to watch this wrinkled critter while you two seek out adventure?” She asked. 

Din shook his head. “I’ve been quested to bring this one back to its kind,” 

“Oh, wow.” Peli chuckled. “I can’t help you there,” She looked back at the Child who was staring up at her and watching with avid fascination as her curly hair bounced as she moved her head. “I’ve never seen any like it, and trust me, I’ve seen all shapes and sizes in this town.” 

“A Mandalorian Armourer has sent me on my path. If I can locate another of my kind I can chart a path through the network of coverts.” Din explained. 

Peli huffed. “You’ve been the only Mando here for years from what I can tell.” 

“Where is Mos Pelgo?” Din asked. “I’ve been told there’s one there,” 

“Oh boy, I haven’t heard that name in a while,” Peli let out a puff of breath. 

“It’s not on any of the maps,” 

“That’s ‘cause it was wiped out by bandits. Once the Empire fell it was a free-for-all. I didn’t dare leave the city walls. Still don’t.” Peli explained. 

Cato pursed his lips, not liking how this was turning out. It seemed like Mos Pelgo was going to turn up as a dead end. 

“Can you tell me where it used to be?” Din asked. 

Peli raised her eyebrows. “Depends who’s asking. You want to see it?” Not even waiting for an answer, Peli turned to yell deeper into the hangar. “R-5! Bring the map of Tatooine!” 

Cato turned away from the conversation, looking around the hangar and trying to spot any evidence of the scuffle they had gotten into last time they were here. But the hangar looked more or less the same, some of the items having been shuffled around. Cato kicked a bit at the sand floor, knowing that it would have washed away any evidence of the fight. Staring blankly towards the _Crest_ he felt a dull ache in his side where he had been shot, a phantom pain, remembering standing here, detached from his dying body and unable to do anything to help. 

A hand on his shoulder startled him, looking to see Din watching him. “We’re going to head out. We’ll be a few days at least, so pack accordingly.” The Mandalorian told him. 

Cato furrowed his brow. “Pack? We’re not taking the Crest?” He asked. 

Din shook his head. “No, we’re taking the speeder bike.” Cato nodded slowly, not looking forward to stars-know how long on a speeder bike. 

Soon enough, they were racing out into the Dune Sea, Cato clinging to Din and looking back every ten seconds to make sure the Child—who was in the satchel and affixed the side of the bike—had not fallen off. Cato pressed his cheek to the back of Din’s armour, thankful he had remembered to tell the Mandalorian to remove the jetpack from his back. 

The day stretched on, long hours on the speeder bike and seeing nothing but sand, sand, and the occasional rock was driving Cato mad. He spent most of his time with his eyes closed after determining that the Child was not going to fall off, and thought about the dreams that had been haunting him as of late. 

Most of the time they were old memories of his family that he had buried so as to avoid grieving, begrudgingly helping his little sister braid her hair and then in secret going to his mother to ask if she could teach him more elaborate braids, his father taking him into the heart of Aldera and showing him all the buildings he had helped design and the inspirations for the shapes and flow of the building, or sitting on his mother’s lap while she told him stories about her adventures during the Clone Wars before meeting Cato and Adrestia’s dad and agreeing to settle down and start a family. 

Other times it had been strange twisted versions of his life, watching himself and his sister march down black corridors, himself kneeling before a throne or standing over a wasteland of bodies. A couple times he saw flashes of Luke, sometimes fighting him or sometimes smiling and laughing with him. The most disturbing one had been when he had fought _Din_ , eventually managing to restrain him flat on his back long enough to rip the beskar chestplate off and plunge his lightsaber right into the Mandalorian’s heart. 

Cato shuddered even at the memory of that, the way he had felt during that sequence scared him. He didn’t feel dark or evil, he didn’t feel twisted or manipulated, he felt just as much like himself as he did in this moment right now. 

He didn’t like thinking about these dreams, but there was something—there _had_ to be _something_ that was important about them. 

Hours later the trio had made camp with a group of Tusken Raiders who agreed to let them share their fire for the night. 

Cato stared blankly into the flickering flames, eyes vacant and no longer aware of anything around him. The heavy fog that had obscured his thoughts and senses was settling in again and he could feel the cool night air seeping into his bones. His vision slid in and out focus, and at times he swore that everyone around him just...vanished. But then he’d blink and they’d be there, eating and discussing something Cato didn’t have the skill to understand or capacity to decipher. 

“Cato,” he looked over at the call of his name and found Din watching him, the handful of Tuskens they were with, also staring at Cato. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. 

Cato nodded slowly. “Just tired I think. I haven’t been awake for more than three hours in...I don’t know how long.” he looked around at their surroundings, the sand here mostly giving way to sandstone boulders. “I’m fine, I just need sleep,” He mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. 

When Cato lay down on the cold sand a few minutes later, his back to the dying fire and the Child nestled into his jacket, he immediately felt every ounce of energy drain out of him. His eyelids drooped and he was just barely aware of Din settling down beside him when sleep overcame him and he found himself once again in an endless, black abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:  
> Ni ven akaanir kyr’am ni’ast royut ni duumir gar ba’slanar: I will fight Death myself before I let you go


	5. IV: Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of many dreams

Deep twilight stretched across the landscape, the world dark and cast in the shadow of night, though by comparison the sky was still a deep cobalt blue just above the horizon. A single star-like planet lit the sky, guiding Cato as he walked across the flat planes. Sand shifted under his feet, but did not impede his mobility, letting him walk easily across its unsteady surface towards the star-planet.

Lights glittered on the horizon, clustered together to form small cities that flickered as Cato moved closer. 

He couldn’t be sure how far away the lights were, but he was unconcerned despite the fact that they never seemed to get any closer, always remaining on the horizon. 

Time seemed to slip around Cato with no meaning, minutes passing like days and hours passing in a single second. Sourceless feelings thrummed in the air around Cato, communicating ideas and concepts to him as he walked. He saw the rise and fall of ancient civilizations, long before any sort of interplanetary travel, the rise of the Old Republic and its fall. The crumbling of the Republic and the Jedi Order from the ashes of which the Galactic Empire rose, before falling and reforming into something else. Cato watched hundreds of trillions of lives dissipate over the rise and fall of these civilizations only to become reformed as others. 

Then the concepts were no longer just something he was thinking in an abstract way, but around him. As he walked farther on the sand flats, sand rose around him, solidifying into bones which grew flesh and blood bodies that walked organically and naturally before deteriorating into sand once more only for others to take their place. Building grew from the sand as well, solidifying as Cato walked by them before disintegrating as he moved past. 

Even as cities and people built themselves around Cato, he could still see that star-planet in the sky, guiding him ever onwards towards the flickering lights on the horizon. The city began to build up ahead of him, grand buildings and palaces rising from the sand to greet Cato. Lavishly dressed people walking the street, flooding towards a massive colosseum that was rising up ahead of him, the sand hardening into marble as he watched, ornate pillars and ivory statues adorning the breathtaking piece of architecture. 

Cato walked towards it, watching as it became even more ornate as he approached, precious foils and gems creating the most lavish filigree work he’d ever seen. 

Entranced, he followed everyone inside, entering a dark hall that led towards a brightly lit interior. 

Cato stepped out into the colosseum, finding himself on the floor of the arena alone, though the stands were packed with screaming and cheering people. He looked around in awe, looking up at the glittering interior of the colosseum, filled with so many people from every corner of the galaxy. 

Eight statues were placed at even intervals around the arena, each carved of a beautiful white stone and over twenty feet tall. The one to his right was lordly though featureless and held a scepter that was topped with a replica of the galaxy. The next one was also featureless, though serene and strong holding a massive shield at their feet embossed with a sun. Adjacent to that statue, the third had a simple three tiered halo, still no defining features. Directly across from where Cato had entered, the fourth statue stood, hands resting on their collarbones, framing a necklace of rope. The next statue had a stream of carved water falling from one hand into the next, it’s blank and stark face stared across the arena. Cato looked to the next statue and found that in one hand it held a lightsaber, blade dipped towards the ground at its side, while its other hand held a heart aloft. Directly to Cato’s left, the adjacent statue stood, holding a star above their head. 

Slowly, Cato turned around to face the statue directly behind him, marking the archway he had come out of. As tall, ominous, and featureless as all the others, the eighth statue stood stoic, no items to adorn its stone form. 

Cato stared up at the eighth statue, feeling dwarfed by it to a much more notable point, most likely because he was closer to it. 

As he stared up at it, another cheer went up from the crowd, drawing Cato’s attention back to the center of the arena. 

A second figure stood in the middle, face obscured by an ivory mask carved to look like the reptilian face of an adar, with hollow cheekbones, large teeth, and spines. The mask was a haunting white against the figure’s black clothes, seeming almost like a skull staring at Cato from the shadow of the black hood. 

The figure flicked their hand, and a golden yellow blade of light extended from a lightsaber hilt Cato hadn’t even realised they were holding. 

Startled, Cato backed up a few steps. _What was happening? Who was that? Was he supposed to fight them?_

His thoughts were drowned out as the crowd’s cheers grew into thunderous swells of excitement. 

The figure rushed forward, leaping off the ground with incredible skill, their lightsaber arcing down towards Cato with frightening speed. 

Sparks flew as the lightsaber hit Cato’s, the figure landing in front of him as the two pushed against their crossed blades trying to gain the upper hand. Cato dropped to the ground, extinguishing his saber to throw his opponent off balance and swipe their feet out from under them. 

Only the figure danced out of the way, not even seeming surprised. They twirled their saber in their hands and with a flourish, lunged at Cato who rolled to the side and got to his feet in one fluid motion. 

Igniting his lightsaber again, Cato watched the figure closely as they two settled into a ready stance. Cato began to sidestep around the figure slowly, his opponent mirroring his so they walked in perfect orbit of each other. 

In a flash, Cato sliced an arc towards the masked figure, who brought his own saber up to block it. As soon as their blades touched, Cato sidestepped, simultaneously switching off his saber to get inside the figure’s defenses before switching it back on. 

Blades sparked again, as just as quickly as Cato had acted, the figure had flicked off their own saber only to reignite it again to block Cato’s new attack. 

The adar mask leered at Cato mockingly as he stared in shock at the mystery fighter. Spinning to the side, the unknown figure struck towards Cato, extinguishing his blade at the last minute to slip past Cato’s parry and attempt to strike him. 

Cato had just enough foresight to turn to the side, just barely moving out of the way. 

From there on out it was a ferocious battle, each opponent matched perfectly in every way and fighting to surprise the other. Lightsabers clicked on and off and traded hands at light speed, the two fighters twisting and flipping around each other like some strange mirror dance, both being pushed back by each other before managing to slip around and turn the tides in their favour. 

Cato was backed up against the base of the eighth statue, trying to figure out how to beat this person. They seemed to know every one of his tricks that he usually used to get the upper hand in combat. Every movement that Obi Wan had taught him was mirrored back at him by this person and all of the tricks he had developed involving extinguishing one’s lightsaber to slip past an opponent’s defenses didn’t seem to phase this fighter. The only good thing about them being so matched in combat was that Cato could tell they were starting to tire as well. He could hear their heavy breaths as they bore down on him, pressing him back against the marble statue. 

If Cato let this continue he was dead, the exhaustion would catch up on him and he would start getting sloppy and sluggish. If he was hit right now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to snap back to attention quick enough to defend himself. 

Cato stared into the shadowed eyes of the adar mask, realising that if he felt that way, chances were his opponent did too. 

Steeling himself and looking for one final push of raw strength, Cato surged back against his attacker, shoving him back and actually throwing him a couple yards, the figure rolled and skidded to a stop. 

Knowing he had only seconds, Cato flicked his lightsaber off, praying to who or whatever would listen that this worked, and threw his lightsaber at the masked fighter who was up on one knee and reaching for his own weapon. End over end, the saber arced towards the fighter, Cato willing it to hit its mark, and at the final rotation igniting it with a slight jerk of his head. 

The yellow blade plunged into the chest of the fighter, sinking all the way up to the hilt, the tip of the blade hitting the sand behind them. 

The figure was frozen for a second, a deadly hush having fallen across the colosseum, leaving the pitiful, wet choking and gasping sounds they were making perfectly audible. Then with one last shaky breath, they toppled sideways, laying sprawled out in the sand, dead. 

Cato heaved a sigh of relief, trying to catch his breath and not even aware of the deafening cheers coming up from the colosseum. He walked towards their body, crouching to yank his saber out of their chest and extinguish it. Staring at the adar mask, he hesitantly reached out and lifted it off to reveal the stranger's face. 

Dead, blue eyes stared at him. _His_ blue eyes. 

Cato fell backwards in shock, not daring to take his eyes off of the dead man in front of him. The dead _Cato_ in front of him. 

A deafening crack filled the colosseum, and Cato looked over his shoulder quickly, staring up at the eighth statue that towered above him. A massive fracture stretched across the top of it, just about below the shoulders of the massive figure. 

As Cato watched, the crack grew, raining dust and shards down around the base. Cato quickly got to his feet, stumbling away from the statue towards the center of the arena. The sound of stone cracking got louder, and then the top quarter just fell off, hitting the sandy ground with such force that it sent Cato to his knees, throwing hand over his eyes to shield from the sand that was kicked up. 

When the dust settled, Cato was staring at a massive, ruined statue of himself. 

How had he not noticed it was him before? Had it _changed_? Had the others changed as well? 

Quickly looking around at the other seven statues, Cato felt some deep fear envelope him as he recognised the statues. 

His father was the statue that wielded the scepter holding the galaxy and his mother the woman with the shield. Obi Wan had the three tiered halo and Va’syll the rope necklace. Luke was the one with water falling between his hands and Cato’s sister, Adrestia, held the lightsaber and heart. 

Cato turned to the seventh statue, and found the star being held aloft by a familiar Mandalorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the statues (and iconography) are based on tarot cards from the major arcana, representing people who have or will fill those roles in Cato's life.  
> Below is a list of the characters, what card they represent and the associated iconography. 
> 
> I. Alexon Dazhyn| The Emperor: protetion, stability, the father. Icons: scepter and globe (in this case: galaxy)
> 
> II. Vega Byrd| The Empress: Creation, nature, the mother. Icons: Shield 
> 
> III. Obi Wan Kenobi| The Hierophant: mentor, seeking knowledge. Icons: triple crown/halo
> 
> IV. Va'syll Maetric| The Hanged Man: sacrifice, letting go. Icons: noose
> 
> V. Luke Skywalker| Temperance: healing, renewal. Icons: water flowing from one chalice (or in this case: hand) to another
> 
> VI. Adrestia dazhyn| Judgement: forgiveness. Icons: sword (in this case a lightsaber) and human heart [this iconography is less based in tarot and more broad symbols for justice/judgement]
> 
> VII. Din Djarin| The Star: hope, peace of mind. Icons: a star
> 
> VIII. Cato Dazhyn| The Tower: unexpected change, hardship. Icons: a tower typically with the top quarter falling off
> 
> This chapter has so much foreshadowing and cryptic symbolism. whoops. 
> 
> Also, for those who don't know, an adar is a weird lizard/dragon thing in the SW universe.


	6. V: The Marshal

At about midday the following day, the speeder began to slow, prompting Cato to look over Din’s shoulder. He saw that they were approaching a small town, a mere handful of buildings that had all seen better days. As they drew closer, Cato watched apprehensively as people turned to stare at them, a few ducking back into buildings out of sight. 

Din brought the speeder to a halt outside of a cantina and climbed off, looking back expectantly at Cato. Cato slid off the speeder and hissed a little when he stood, his legs stiff from the hours of riding and everything hurt as if he had been in a taxing fight last night. 

That thought made Cato falter as his thoughts suddenly rushed back to the dream he had last night. The colosseum with the statues and killing the strange copy of himself in an adar mask. A chill ran down Cato’s back and he wondered if that dream had somehow taxed him physically. 

He shook it off a moment later, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head a little as if to fling the thoughts from his mind. He was probably just sore because he had slept on the ground. There had probably been a rock under him that he hadn’t noticed. That was all. 

A bump against his hand made him look up at Din, who was watching him intently, Cato feeling his piercing gaze even through the helmet. “ _E gar cuyir jahaala?_ ” he asked quietly. Cato nodded, wanting to just reach out and grab Din’s hand, but he knew he couldn’t. Not here. The eyes that followed their arrival had been less than friendly, and Cato knew that Din was trying to distance them, not taking Cato’s hand and only asking him if he was okay in Mando’a. The less people knew about them and their affections, the better. 

Cato carefully lifted the Child from the satchel and set him on the ground, the two following Din into the cantina which was empty save a barkeep. 

While Din approached the bar, Cato hung back in the shadows by the door, the Child hiding behind his legs to try to get the element of surprise on the little sand hoppers that hopped across the sandy floor. 

“Can I help you?” The barkeep asked, looking Din up and down and glancing over at Cato. 

“I’m looking for a Mandalorian,” Din stated. 

The barkeep looked up at Din and gave a small shrug. “We don’t get many visitors in these parts. Can you describe him?” He asked. 

“Someone that looks like me.” Cato could almost feel the exasperation roiling off of Din in that moment and it was almost enough to make him smile. 

“Hmm…” the man hummed, looking over the armoured Mandalorian in front of him. “You mean the Marshal?” he asked. 

Din’s head tilted to the side slightly. “Your marshal wears mandalorian armour?” he asked. 

A shadow fell in the doorway and Cato straightened up quickly, slinking a few steps further from the door. 

“See for yourself,” the barkeep said, prompting Din to turn around and face the doorway. 

Cato began to slowly move away from the doorway, towards Din, not turning his back on the silhouetted figure. 

As Cato managed to slink around behind Din—the Child on his heels—the figure stepped into the cantina, and Cato could now clearly see the worn and chipped green paint on a familiar style of armour. 

“What brings you here, stranger?” The man asked, and Cato noted the hand hovering over his blaster. 

“I’ve been searching for you for many parsecs,” Din said with a nod. 

“Well, now you’ve found me,” He said, walking up to the bar. “Weeequay, two shots of spotchka,” the other Mandalorian said. Then he glanced past Din to Cato. “Make it three,” he amended. 

Cato glanced at Din, wondering if he was a little confused as well. 

The barkeep set the flagon on the table and three small glasses, which the stranger picked up. “Why don’t you join me for a drink,” He suggested, walking past them to one of the empty tables. 

Din made no move to follow and neither did Cato, but they both watched the stranger with rapt focus, ready for the slightest hint of betrayal or danger. 

The stranger sat down, and Din took a couple steps closer, but halted when the stranger lifted their helmet off. 

Cato sucked in a breath as he stared at the man, who half smiled at them. “I’ve never met a real Mandalorian before,” he said, staring into the expressionless helmet of Din. “Heard stories,” He continued. “I know you're good at killin’,” he poured the three shots of spotchka. “And probably not too happy to see me wearing this hardware,” he set the flagon of spotchka down with a small thud. “So, I figure only one of us is walkin’ out of here,” He sounded resigned, and Cato would have thought he was almost okay with it, if he hadn’t been keeping his right hand on his leg, where Cato knew it was ready to draw a blaster at any moment. “But then I see the little guy,” he gestured a little past Cato to where the Child was gnawing on the rim of a clay pot and Cato instinctively side-stepped to provide a shield to the Child. “And I think maybe I pegged you wrong,” he pushed two of the glasses of spotchka to the seats opposite him. 

“Who are you?” Din asked, a coldness to his voice that after so long of whispering gentle compliments and praises to Cato, the auburn haired man had almost forgotten that Din was a terrifying and intimidating presence to most. 

“I’m Cobb Vanth, marshal of Mos Pelgo,” the man said, raising his shot of spotchka in a sarcastic little toast. 

“Where did you get the armour?” Din asked. 

Cobb down his shot of spotchka. “Bought it off some Jawas,” 

“Hand it over.” Din demanded. 

The marshal set down his cup and gave a small scoff of amusement. “Look man, I’m sure that where you come from you call the shots, but around here,” he gestured to himself. “I’m the one that tells people what to do.” 

Din took a few more steps forward. “Take it off. Or I will.” 

“We gonna do this in front of the kid?” Cobb asked, gesturing to the small child who was watching the interaction with curiosity from behind the clay pot. 

“He’s seen worse,” Din said, unconcerned. And while Cato wasn’t exactly a fan of introducing a child to the world of war at such a young age—though if Din’s claim that he was fifty, it made him older than both Cato and Din—he knew that the Child would be okay. But he wasn’t sure about himself, and based on the way Din shifted his weight in preparation to lunge sideways in front of 

Cato, he guessed that the Mandalorian felt the same. 

“Right here then?” Cobb Vanth asked. 

“Right here,” Din confirmed. 

The Marshal sighed a bit and stood up, pushing the chair back a ways so he had room to move. The two stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Cato could see the twitch in Cobb’s hand as he waited for the tension to break. 

A low rumbling filled Cato’s ears, so low that it seemed to shake the back of his skull and was barely in the realm of being audible. At first he thought he was getting sick again, that it was just a headache, but then the building began to shake and now he could _hear_ the rumbling. He looked down at the Child and found him curiously watching the clay pot shake and tremble with the tremors with curiosity. 

At first Din and Cobb didn’t move, didn’t even seem to acknowledge it, but Cato saw the Marshal’s eyes flick towards the doorway and he held up a hand, putting their fight on a momentary pause. Cato watched apprehensively as the Marshal walked to the doorway and looked out onto the single, wide street that bisected Mos Pelgo. 

Din and Cato both followed, standing beside the Marshal and watching as people began to run back into buildings, not seeming to care which buildings, just into the closest one possible. 

The rumbling got louder, and then a loud, drawn out scream came from beyond Mos Pelgo where Din and Cato had come from, and Cato’s face paled as he recognised it. 

“Oh no,” He murmured, earning a glance from the Marshal. 

Cato watched as the sand began to shift, falling and rising like waves on the ocean. Occasionally, he could see scaly spines emerging from the waves of sand only to disappear again. Cato watched as the phenomenon moved past them and then vanished as it reached the other side of town. He was about to release the breath he had been holding when the sand erupted a couple hundred yards away, and Cato just barely saw the massive, scaly head of a Krayt Dragon emerge from the ground and swallow the bantha that had been tethered there and dive back into the sand immediately. 

“Perhaps we can work something out,” Cobb Vanth said after a moment when the tremors subsided and there was no sign of the Krayt Dragon. 

The three men walked through the small town, Cato holding the Child in a sling he had made from the sash of cloth that he kept threaded through his belt. They watched as people began to go about repairing things that had been damaged when the Krayt Dragon moved through, replacing slats on the walkways, re-welding machinery, righting anything that had fallen. 

“That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since...long before Mos Pelgo was established,” Cobb explained. “Thanks to this armour, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and sand people.” He gestured at the people they were passing. “They look to me to protect them. But a Krayt Dragon is too much for me to take on alone,” he stopped walking, resting his arm on a post and looked at Cato. “You recognised the call,” he pointed out. “You’re familiar with them?” 

Cato gave a half shrug, looking around and still squinting his eyes a bit to see against the light of the twin suns. “I lived here for a while. I’m familiar enough to know the call and to get the fuck away.” he explained bluntly. 

The Marshal nodded, and Cato knew that that was what he had been expecting. That was what most people knew. Then he looked to Din. “Help me kill it and I’ll give you the armour.” 

Din glanced at Cato and the Child. Cato gave a small sigh and a half shrug. He wanted to protest, to say that they should cut their losses and get out of here, no use getting killed by Krayt Dragon. But he didn’t. He knew that Din wouldn’t leave something with so much cultural significance to him and his people and he didn’t want to take that from him. He wouldn’t take that from him, it wasn’t his place. 

“Deal.” Din agreed after a moment. “We’ll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand—use the bantha as bait.” Din suggested. 

Cato shook his head.

“Not so simple,” Cobb said. “A ship passes overhead and it senses the vibrations—,” 

“It will stay underground.” Cato finished. “It’s not the easiest to trick.” 

“He’s right,” Cobb agreed, nodding at Cato. “But I know where it lives.” 

Din tilted his head slightly. “How far?” 

“Not far.” 

☀︎︎

The speeders zipped across the dunes, Cato holding onto Din tightly and once again looking behind him every so often to make sure the Child was still there. 

As they traveled, Cato listened to Cobb Vanth’s story of how he had gotten the armour and became the Marshal. 

Cato felt guilty as he listened to the story. The celebration of the destruction of the second Death Star and the fall of the Empire that he knew was held across the galaxy had been cut short in Mos Pelgo, as he was sure it had been in many places. His gut twisted as he realised the broader effects of the power vacuum that had been created with the destruction of the Empire. He had been part of the Rebellion, he had been fighting to bring peace to the galaxy, and not only had he deserted the cause and fled, but when the Empire fell and cities and planets befell new dictators and rulers, where was he? He had been laying in a field on Kreios with Din, watching the stars, not a care about anyone else in the galaxy. He hadn’t brought anyone’s freedom, he had run away. 

Soon, the dunes began to give way to rocky ridges and canyons. Din and Cobb maneuvered through the narrow ravines, bringing them deeper into the mountains. 

A low croaking growl caught everyone’s attention, and Cobb quickly held up a fist and slowed to a stop, Din following suit. Before the speeder had even fully stopped, Din was sliding off of it and grabbing the amban rifle, ducking behind the speeder and urging Cato to follow suit with a quick hand gesture. 

Cato crouched behind the speeder, painfully aware of how unarmed he was. He had lost his blaster back on Nevarro during the conflict with Moff Gideon, he hadn’t dared attempt using the Force again after the effect last time, and although his lightsaber was clipped to his belt—hidden by the tails of the strip of cloth that he had been using to carry the child earlier—he didn’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary. He knew that he had Din, who would do all manner of dumb things to keep him safe, but Cato didn’t like feeling powerless and it was a recurring feeling since he had woken up on the _Crest_. 

The growling got closer and Cato watched as a pack of mastiffs emerged from behind the boulders, hackles raised and stalking closer, continuing their strange, wavering growl. 

To Cato’s utter surprise, Din lowered the amban rifle and began to imitate the mastiff growl, the sound reverberating around the ravine and causing the pack of mastiffs to quiet. 

Din handed Cato the amban rifle and slowly stood up, walking around the edge of the speeder and cautiously approaching the mastiffs. Cato watched apprehensively and readied the rifle just in case. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Cobb hissed, but Din just held a hand up. 

As he approached, the lead mastiff ran forward a little bit, tilting it’s lizard-like head as Din reached into a pouch on his belt and lowered himself onto one knee as the mastiff ran up to him. Cato watched in awe as the mastiff began to lick Din’s pauldron happily while the Mandalorian scratched its scaly skin. 

Seeing that the mastiffs were no longer a threat, Cato and Cobb both lowered their weapons a bit. 

Cato stared at Din quizzically, head tilted to the side slightly, wondering how the hell Din managed to befriend everyone he crossed paths with and still keep his image as a ruthless and feared bounty hunter. 

Two figures stepped out from behind the boulder and Cato tore his gaze away from Din to focus on the Tuskens. He kept the amban rifle lowered, non threateningly, knowing that Din was good at negotiating. The Child, who had ducked into the satchel, now poked his head out, tilting his head to get his ears out without being snagged. The Child looked back at Cato and cooed, drawing Cato’s attention. He smiled and rubbed the tip of the kid’s ear. 

Din and the Tuskens began to talk, using a mixture of the sign language that Cato knew a little of and a verbal language consisting of rough grunts. 

When Din and the Tuskens had gone back and forth a few times, Cobb grew impatient. 

“You know what they’re sayin’?” He asked Cato, keeping his eyes on the exchange. 

Cato furrowed his brow, trying to make out the hand gestures, but the position he was in put Din between him and the Tusken he was speaking with. “Can’t see clearly from here,” 

Cobb let out a sigh. “Hey, partner, you wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” He asked. 

Din turned slightly to look back at the Marshal and Cato. 

“They want to kill the Krayt Dragon too,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translation(s):   
> E gar cuyir jahaala: Are you okay?/Are you well?
> 
> I always have a moment of panic where I think that Cato would actually know who Boba Fett is/recognise his armour (same with Yoda's species). But then I remember that he left in the beginning of ESB and thus never saw him. 
> 
> Cato gets to use the amban rifle a lot in the season (bc of the introduction of the jetpack and spear to Din's arsenal) and I'm SO happy.


	7. VI: Alliances Must Be Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan to kill the krayt dragon is created while Din and Cato broker a delicate alliance between the citizens of Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens

Night had fallen, and the three men and the Child had made camp with the Tuskens at one of their settlements. 

They sat around a fire, Din acting as the liaison between the Tuskens and the trio. Cato sat between Cobb and Din, knees drawn up to his chest and sweat starting to bead on his brow even though he could feel himself starting to shiver. He could feel the familiar haze starting to set in again, dulling his senses. The dirt tasting medicine that Din had given him that morning was wearing off and the sickness was coming back. 

A soft coo drew Cato’s attention and he looked to his left where the Child sat between Din’s legs, staring at Cato with his large black eyes. He sent a thin smile to the Child. 

“ _Ni ven ganar jahaala_ ,” he said quietly. He doubted the Child could understand him, but he hoped that his hollow words would comfort the Child anyways. _I’ll get better_. He repeated the phrase to himself. It didn’t sound convincing. 

Cato watched as one of the Tuskens broke open a small spherical shell, like a sea urchin, black spores or smoke rising from the now bowl shaped shell. They spoke some more with Din, using gestures that Cato recognised. They wanted them to drink the spores from the shell as a sign of good faith and mutual understanding. He watched with heavy eyes as Din responded, telling them he could not accept their gift because of his creed. 

One of the Tuskens handed Cobb the shell and he took it hesitantly, sniffing the spores and leaning over towards Din and Cato. “What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked out of the corner of his mouth. 

“You drink it,” Cato whispered hoarsely, watching as one of the Tuskens tried to hand him one of the shells as well. Cato’s stomach lurched at the thought of consuming anything right now, but he didn’t want to insult their allies so he moved his hand, reaching out jerkily for the shell. 

“It stinks,” Cobb protested, not seeming to pay any mind to Cato’s struggling. 

Before Cato could take the shell, Din placed a hand in front of the shell to stop Cato from taking it. The Tuskens started to protest, but Din quickly removed his hand and started explaining his actions to them. 

“What’s he saying?” Cobb asked Cato quietly. 

Cato stared at the hand motions, his muddled brain trying to put it all together. “He’s telling them I’m ill and can’t take their gift because it will hurt me.” he translated. 

“You’re sick?” Cobb asked, glancing down at Cato questioningly. Cato slowly turned his head to look up at the Marshal, showing his gaunt face and waxen skin, which he knew by looking at his hands was growing paler by the minute. 

“Yeah,” He murmured, looking back at the fire blankly, his vision starting to slide in and out of focus. “Yeah, I’m ill.” 

“Will—,” 

Whatever Cobb was about to say was cut off as Din returned to speaking Basic. “Drink,” he ordered. 

“It _smells_ ,” Cobb protested, abandoning his talk with Cato. 

“Do you want their help?” Din asked bluntly. 

“Not if I have to drink this,” The Marshal decided. 

The Tuskens grew agitated, drawing Cato’s gaze from the fire to watch the conversation. 

“They say your people steal your water and now you insult them by not drinking it,” Din translated. “They know about Mos Pelgo, they know how many sand people you’ve killed,” 

“They _invaded_ our village, I _defended_ the town,” Cobb justified, anger growing in his voice. 

“Lower your voice,” Din warned. 

Cato could hear the fighting growing, but his consciousness was slipping, his mind being pulled towards an endless dark plane that waited for him just beyond the veil of consciousness. 

Heat seared past Cato, ripping him out of his stupor and he fell back, squinting against the stream of fire that Din was shooting from his vambrace. Silence fell, and Cato noticed that everyone had stood up except him, and their posture suggested it had been out of aggression. 

Din started to speak with the Tuskens again, before speaking to Cobb, answering his query on what he was telling them with a harsh, “The same thing I’m telling you. If we fight amongst ourselves the monster will kill us all.” a tense moment passed and everyone sat back down. “Now,” Cato watched Din make the hand motion. “How do we kill it?” Each word was punctuated by its translation into the sign language the Tuskens used so as to deliver the message to both parties at the same time. 

Cato didn’t have the strength to stay aware of the conversation or his surroundings after that, his vision blurring until the flames he had been staring at blurred into an orange glow that consumed his vision and he sank into the murky depth of his subconscious, the world he knew lost around him. 

☀︎︎

Several hours later Cato woke up, staring at the roof of a circular tent. It was cold despite being curled under heaps of furs and blankets. He twisted in Din’s arms, the Mandalorian laying beside him under the furs, still fully armoured. Cato stared at the visor of the helmet, wondering if Din was awake right now. 

A coupled seconds passed in silence and Din didn’t stir, confirming that he was asleep. 

Carefully, Cato sat up, detangling himself from Din’s embrace and carefully climbing out from under the furs. He padded quietly across the tent and peeked out the flap, finding the camp dark and devoid of conscious beings. 

He stepped out into the night air, shivering at the cold but walking towards the edge of the camp anyways. He passed the fire they had all been sitting around earlier, taking note of the handful of embers that still burned in the firepit. 

At the edge of the encampment, there was a rocky ledge that looked out over a valley of sorts. Carefully, Cato walked up to the ledge, looking over the sandy valley, lit only by the light of stars and the grey light on the horizon that marked the nearing of dawn. He took a deep breath, the cold air feeling sharp against his throat and lungs. 

So much had happened in the past few months he could barely keep track of it. Two months ago he was on Kreios meditating and providing entertainment for children by using the Force for trivial tricks while waiting and wishing every day for Din to come and visit him. And now...now he was on Tatooine, dreadfully ill, and trying to return a child to its people after fighting Moff Gideon, a man who was supposed to be dead. 

Cato tried to think back to the start of whatever sickness this was. Undoubtedly it had started after he had channelled the Force to replenish his energy and it had burned right through him. He remembered the white hot, burning pain with a wince and a tug at his heart as he remembered the circumstances of trying to save Din. And then what? He had been on the _Crest_ when everything started to blur and then suddenly he had felt blood caking his hands and running down his arms. The metallic taste had filled his mouth and he could feel it trailing across his skin, slowly covering him, suffocating him. 

Cato lurched out of the memory as someone placed a hand on his shoulder, the weight familiar. 

“You’re sick,” Din said quietly. Cato nodded in agreement, staring out over the valley silently. “You're dying,” 

“I know,” Cato whispered, barely audible. 

☀︎︎

The next day, Cato woke up back in the tent to find Din kneeling beside him and holding Cato’s head up. As Cato’s eyes fluttered open, Din removed the canteen from his lips and set it on the ground, helping Cato sit up fully before handing him the canteen of water to finish. Cato took it weakly, raising it to his chapped lips and drinking the water that now had the aftertaste of dirt thanks to whatever weird medicine Din had gotten for him. This was the new morning routine, it having become apparent that after Cato fell asleep he would not wake up again without the medicine, a thought that, quite frankly, scared him. 

When Cato finished, he handed the empty canteen back to Din and promptly realised that they were not alone. Behind the Mandalorian, Cobb was leaning on one of the support posts and one of the Tuskens stood a little to the left of Din, watching the two. 

“What—?” Cato rasped, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“They were concerned—,” 

“Curious,” Cobb corrected. 

“—and wanted to inspect the medicine and see it work.” Din said, ignoring Cobb’s correction. 

Cato nodded, a little confused, but decided not to question it. Din helped him to his feet and then the four exited the tent to go get ready for the day’s adventures. 

While Din went to transfer supplies from the speeder bikes to the bantha they would be riding and continue to discuss the plan with the Tuskens, Cato and Cobb sat by the morning fire eating breakfast. 

“So,” Cobb said through a half full mouth of whatever meat they were eating. “You said you were sick last night and I didn’t quite believe you because you seemed fine during the day. A little tired and pale maybe, but that’s not totally abnormal. But uh,” He paused. “Last night you looked half dead and this morning your Mandalorian friend said you wouldn’t wake up if he didn’t give you the medicine.” 

Cato nodded mutely, not eating and instead tearing off little pieces of meat to feed to the Child who seemed happy to munch on whatever Cato gave him. 

“That’s gotta be a rough way to live,” Cobb continued and Cato nodded again. “How long have you been sick?” 

Cato sighed and looked up. “I don’t know. I’ve only been awake…” He thought back, trying to remember how many days it had been, but found the memories jumbled and nonlinear. “Three days, I think.” He said after a moment, trying to sort out the ‘timeline’ so to speak. “I was unconscious for a while and just wouldn’t wake up. A week maybe, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember.” 

“Do you know what’s makin’ you sick?” the Marshal asked. 

“No,” Cato said, shaking his head. 

A moment of silence stretched between them before Cobb spoke up again. “Are you worried at all? Worried you won’t make it?” He asked, seeming genuinely concerned. 

Cato swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking back to the short conversation he had had with Din the night before on the ridge. “No,” He managed to choke out, the lie burning his throat and laying heavy on his tongue. 

The Marshal nodded, and Cato knew he knew that it was a lie, but it didn’t matter. 

After breakfast, the group of unlikely allies set out towards the Krayt Dragon den on bantha, which Cato had never ridden before. He sat in front of Din, one of the Mandalorian’s arms wrapped around Cato’s waist to help keep him steady, and the other holding the reins to guide the massive creature. If it had been up to Cato, he would have let Din be in front, and instead take his usual place at the Mandalorian’s back. But Din had opted to wear the jetpack and didn’t want to accidentally hit Cato in the face with it. Cato hadn’t pushed the matter, picking up on the undertones and deciphering that Din wanted to be able to keep an eye on Cato. 

The group stopped about a quarter mile away from the home of the Krayt Dragon, the Tuskens advising that they all went on foot from here on. The bantha were all tethered down, except one, which was led with them towards whatever home this creature had. 

After climbing and walking a little ways, the group settled on a ridge across a small sand flat from the looming mouth of a cave, watching as the fourth Tusken and the chosen bantha slowly made their way across the sand flat towards the mouth of the cave. 

“They say it lives in there,” Din translated to Cobb and Cato. “They say it sleeps.” Din took the binocs that one of the Tuskens offered him and Cato frowned in thought. Sleeping was probably the best shot they had at this thing, but he still didn’t like their odds. “It lives in an abandoned Sarlacc pit,” 

Cato scrunched his face up and Cobb scoffed, apparently thinking the same thing. “I’ve lived on Tatooine my whole life, there’s no such thing as an abandoned Sarlacc pit.” he said skeptically. 

“There is if you eat the Sarlacc,” Din corrected. 

That was a worrisome thought. 

Cato watched apprehensively as the bantha and the lone Tusken approached the mouth of the cave, half listening to Din’s explanation of what was happening. An offering of sorts, to help keep it sated and thus away from their settlement. The bantha was led to the mouth of the cave, where a stake holding its tether was driven into the ground. A sinking feeling settled in Cato as the Tusken began to sall out to the Krayt Dragon, the same deep rumbling from before starting to shake the mouth of the cave. 

The Child tilted his head and cooed quietly and Cato wondered briefly if the Child could tell what was about to happen. 

The sand began to ripple again, and Cato looked away from the kid to watch as the Krayt Dragon’s head emerged from the sand just beyond the darkness of the cave and swallowed the Tusken who had been desperately trying to flee, ignoring the bantha who was still very much alive and only seeming mildly disgruntled. 

A tense silence fell amongst the group, a mixture of mourning and a general feeling of _‘what the fuck are we doing here?’_. 

“They might be open to some fresh ideas,” Din said, breaking the short silence. 

☀︎︎

Back at the settlement, everyone sat around a small diagram that had been built to help them plan. Cato crouched by Din’s feet, looking over the map they had laid out and the factors and elements that had to be considered when forming this plan. 

“What are the bones?” Cobb asked quietly from beside Din. 

“That’s the Krayt Dragon,” Din answered. 

“And the little rocks?” 

“That’s us.” 

Cobb scoffed and looked around at the group. “It’s not to scale,” He said out of the corner of his mouth. 

“I think it is,” The Mandalorian answered, seemingly unconcerned at the daunting task at hand. 

Cato assumed that the news of this diagram being to scale had brought a particularly horrified expression to Cobb’s face, but he didn’t turn around to look, not wanting to miss any details of the discussion between the Tuskens, which he was barely keeping track of as is. 

“It can’t be, that’s too big,” The Marshal muttered. 

Cato watched one of the Tuskens speak with Din, confirming that the diagram was indeed to scale. 

An idea started to spark at the back of Cato’s mind, and he straightened up a little, looking at the diagram. He looked up at one of the nearest Tuskens, and started to sign the question he was trying to ask. His movements were shaky and unsure, and he was positive he got some of the words wrong, but he hoped they understood. 

_Tell me...about...its...underbelly._ He signed. 

The Tusken he had been directing the question to seemed to understand Cato’s question despite his lack of experience with the language and started to sign back, going slower than usual so Cato could keep up. When they finished, Cato nodded in thanks, and looked up at Din, who had been watching the exchange and jumped in to help finish the communications, understanding where Cato was going with this. 

One of the Tuskens sprinkled more pebbles on the ground in front of the Krayt Dragon and Cato leaned forward to start pointing out different points on the diagram where people would have to be stationed. 

“That’s more like it,” Cato heard Cobb mutter. “Where are they getting the reinforcements?” 

There was a half beat of silence before Din answered. “I volunteered your village.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mando'a translations:   
> Ni ven ganar jahaala: I'll get better
> 
> Also, *cough* Cato's sickness didn't start after he channeled the Force *cough cough*   
> Just in general, Cato is no longer a reliable narrator/source of information. That will become more and more clear as the book progresses.


	8. VII: The Krayt Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day to kill the dragon has come and the air is thick with anxiety.

At first convincing the people of Mos Pelgo to work alongside the Tuskens had seemed impossible, no one wanting to work alongside the people who had so frequently raided their supplies and even on occasion killed their friends. But Cato had learned a long time ago that for someone whose profession wasn’t exactly to be friendly or to have any flexibility in the outcome of a job, Din made an excellent mediator. People listened to him and respected him. They trusted his judgment and trusted his word, which Cato was sometimes surprised by considering that people didn’t know him, and often when they did it was by reputation. 

Regardless, the alliance was made, and by midday almost everyone was gathered at one of the storehouses a little outside the town, unpacking explosives and gathering weapons for the upcoming fight. 

Cato went through the storehouse, inspecting the various weapons that were kept and taking anything that would be useful and discarding anything that was no longer functional.   
At first when he had made to start going through some things, one of the townspeople grabbed his arm, stopping him. 

“What are you doing?” they had asked coldly. 

“Hey, let him go.” Din had growled, stepping closer to the spark of conflict. 

The man who had grabbed Cato didn’t dare look at the Mandalorian, keeping his hard brown eyes on Cato. “You two are outsiders, we don’t need strangers going through our supplies,” he had hissed venomously. 

Din stepped closer, now close enough that it forced the man to look up at him. 

“Hey!” Cobb shooed everyone away from each other, pulling the man away from Din, who had stepped between the stranger and Cato. “They’re helpin’ us,” He reminded the man. “Cato was a gunner with the Rebellion, he knows his way around weapons and can tell us what will be useful and what’s no good anymore. Just let him help.” he said, then glanced over his shoulder at Din and Cato. “Besides, there’s no point in pissin’ off a Mandalorian over somethin’ as simple as this.” he added. 

After that, no one really approached Cato, leaving him to work inside the storehouse. Apparently the idea that Din would cut off anyone’s head if they got too close to Cato had spread around, albeit false for the most part. 

☀︎︎

It was late afternoon by the time everyone was ready and the Tuskens led the people of Mos Pelgo towards the Krayt Dragon’s den. Cato rode with Din and the Child, tense and nervous at the prospect of the upcoming fight. In addition to the likely harrowing experience ahead, the slowly sinking suns were like a ticking clock for Cato. They were heading into a fight that could end disastrously and Cato probably only had a few more hours of being on his feet. 

When they arrived at the site of the Krayt Dragon’s den, everyone hung back on the ridge where Cato, Din, Cobb, and the Tuskens had scouted from earlier. Everyone waited on baited breath as one of the Tuskens approached, moving carefully over the shifting sand to stand at the mouth of the cave, before kneeling down to place their hands flat on the ground. 

A few seconds passed and they stood, signalling back to the group. 

“What’s he saying?” Cobb asked. 

“He says it's sleeping and that if we listen carefully we can hear it breathing.” Din translated.

Cato took a moment to try, stilling himself and focusing on the surrounding sounds. As everyone followed suit, he heard a deep rumble, subtle enough that it wasn’t immediately noticeable but loud enough that it was easy to pick out once you had identified it. 

“We need to start working,” Cato murmured to Din. “We don’t know how long it will sleep and we’re running out of daylight.” he warned. 

Din nodded. “Let's get to work,” 

Cato explained the plan to everyone and oversaw the placement and burial of the explosives, making sure everyone understood what needed to happen. The main trench was dug into the sand and Cato worked with a couple of the people who had worked in the mines to determine how much of a cushion was needed between each canister. Then they set about showing everyone else how to place the explosives in the trench and how to arrange them. 

Din stood back further from the mouth of the cave, helping communicate the placement of the ballista that were being set up to draw the Krayt Dragon further out of the cave. 

When everything was finally set up, everyone went to get into their positions, a tense silence falling over the sand flat. Cato stood back a little ways with Cobb and Din, watching everyone settle into place. 

Cato looked at the sky, and seeing dusk approaching, he looked down at his hands which were starting to tremble and turn clammy. He clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists and held them like that for a second before slowly unclenching and clenching them again. 

Three Tuskens approached the mouth of the cave and Cato knew everything was about to start for better or for worse. 

Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed Din’s hand, squeezing tightly. The Mandalorian looked at Cato and squeezed back. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Cato said quietly. “I can’t risk losing you,” 

Din gently pressed his forehead to Cato’s, muttering a quiet promise. “You won’t lose me,” Then the moment was over, both turning back to the operation at hand. 

The three Tuskens that had approached began to call loudly into the mouth of the cave, trying to wake the Krayt Dragon. They stopped for a few seconds, listening to see if their provoking had had any affect. 

The low rumbling that had filled the valley grew louder and louder, signaling that it had indeed worked. 

Not wasting any time, the three tuskens started running back towards everyone else. The same long scream that Cato had spent his whole life avoiding filled the valley, echoing from the cave. He could see the sand starting to shift as the Krayt Dragon approached the fleeing tuskens at a rapid speed. As its head emerged from the sand, ready to swallow the three, the ballista were released, firing harpoons into the face of the massive dragon. 

Cato watched as the dragon began to pull back, and he swore under his breath. 

“ _Dank farrik_ , it’s going back in,” Din cursed, as the Krayt Dragon began to pull back, snapping the ropes that held it back and in some cases where the rope and anchors stayed, yanking the harpoons out of its scaly hide. It had retreated back into the mouth of the cave, now only the head in the daylight. “It’s retreating,” Din muttered. 

Cobb looked down at the detonator he held in his hand and back up at the sand flat. “I’m gonna hit it,” he said. 

“No!” Both Din and Cato said quickly. 

“We only have one shot, we’ve gotta get it out,” Din said. 

“And fast.” Cato added. “The longer we’re out here the more things can go wrong.” he warned, not daring to take his eyes off the fight. In an effort to draw the creature further out, people had started throwing loose explosives at it, and it seemed to be slowly working. 

“Now?” Cobb asked, as its head now rated over the far end of the explosives. 

“Wait…” Cato urged, watching everything tensely. 

The Krayt Dragon reared up, moving in so close to the ballista that everyone had to retreat, running back from the massive serpentine head. Cato watched as it sprayed a sickly green slime across the people nearest to it, and his stomach lurched at the thought of it being some kind of acid. 

“Almost, almost,” Din muttered as the Krayt Dragon ventured further and further out. “Now!” 

The explosion erupted from beneath the dragon, spraying sand everywhere as the sounds of the detonation and the screams of the Krayt Dragon deafened everyone in the area. Cato felt the wind and sand from the shockwave hit him and he squinted against it to keep an eye on what was happening. 

When the sand began to settle, everyone stood back up again and turned to the crater in the ground. Cato’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t there. 

“They need to move.” He whispered hoarsely. 

“What?” Cobb asked. 

“It’s not there, they need to _move_!” Cato repeated. “They need to get off the sand _now_!” 

A low rumble filled the valley again and Cato turned in a circle trying to locate it, eventually turning back towards the cave as it grew louder and louder, a loud cracking noise accompanying it this time as well. 

Then in an explosion of rock shards and screams, the dragon emerged from the top of the mountain it had made its home under, writhing and spraying acid onto the people at the base of the mountain. Cato watched as people fell to the rain of acid and stone, a pit opening up inside of him as the screams echoed in his head.

“It’s picking us off like womp rats,” Cobb cursed, storming over to his speeder and grabbing his helmet. “Let’s go after it,” 

Cato barely had time to react before Din had grabbed the amban rifle and was rocketing into the sky beside Cobb, headed towards the massive dragon. 

Unsure of what to do and how to help, Cato stood frozen for a solid five seconds, mind racing. What was he supposed to do? The only weapon he had was his lightsaber, and even if his magic glow stick would work, there was no way he could get to it in time. He set his jaw and ran down towards the sand flat, skidding down slopes and jumping from rock to rock with a little less grace than he had hoped on account of the fading medicine. 

As he skidded onto the flat, he grabbed one of the fallen harpoons and ran towards the mouth of the cave, joining everyone else as they regained their footing on the ground. Up where the actual dragon was, he could see Din and Cobb shooting at it, though the charges seemed to do nothing against its hide. Then they both took off as it razed the ridge they had been hiding behind and Cato saw it disappear again. 

The two both landed in front of the cave, also looking for the dragon. As stones and dust began to rain down the side of the rock face, Cato turned his head side to side, trying to pick up on the rumbling that often gave away its rough location. But the sounds of falling debris must have masked it, because Cato couldn’t hear anything. 

Then behind him, he heard a faint low rumble and whirled around in time to see the dragon burst from a dune across from the mountain, trapping them between it and the cave. It began to move towards them, frighteningly fast for something so large. As it started moving towards them, so close to Cato that the displaced sand stung his eyes, he ran towards it, jumping and impaling the harpoon in its side. 

He felt his arm nearly ripped from its socket as he found himself dangling from the side of the massive dragon. As quickly as he could, Cato used the harpoon as leverage to scramble up the side of the dragon, finding hand and footholds in chinks of its scaly hide. Once on its back, he unclipped his lightsaber, igniting it and driving it straight into the creature's back, forcing the blade of light between two scales and ripping downwards. 

The dragon screeched, rearing its head up and almost throwing Cato from its back, but he managed to hold on, pushing past any amount of pain he was in. When the dragon stopped thrashing, Cato pulled his lightsaber out and began to carefully run up its back towards the head. 

He could see people fleeing the path of the dragon as he ran, but paid them no mind, only focusing on keeping his footing. 

A sudden explosion rocked the dragon, sending Cato flying from its back and crashing into the sand, where he skipped and tumbled like a stone. 

When he finally stopped, he was staring at the sky, his vision hazy and he couldn’t hear anything besides a high pitched ringing in his ears. He sat up, groaning and spitting out sand from his mouth. His face stung and he felt like he had just gone face first down a sandpaper slide, but he ignored that, grabbing his lightsaber from where it had rolled out of his grip when he landed and scrambled to his feet in time to see the Krayt Dragon diving underground, its head already under. 

Cato looked around at everyone, seeing them staring at where the Krayt Dragon had disappeared. Cato located Cobb nearby and walked up to him, noticing as he got closer that the Marshal was staring in horror at where the dragon had disappeared. 

Puzzle pieces started clicking together in Cato’s head and he looked around frantically trying to spot Din, to prove he was wrong. But his Mandalorian was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where is he?” He asked, voice coming out as a rough croak. “Where did he go?” He asked louder, drawing Cobb’s attention. 

“Said to take care of you and the kid,” He held out his hand which was clenched tightly around something, and when he opened it Cato felt like throwing up. “He gave me this, said to keep you safe.” laying in Cobb Vanth’s palm was a vial of a familiar odd blue liquid. 

Cato curled his hands into fists, feeling his blunt nails digging into his palms but he didn’t care. Panic was building in his chest, forcing him to take shorter breaths and urging him to just scream, but he swallowed it, keeping it trapped in his chest and not daring to breathe for fear of falling apart. Cobb awkwardly reached out and grabbed Cato, carefully pulling him closer and trying to still his shaking. 

A low rumble in the ground brough everyone’s attention back around to the space where the Krayt Dragon had vanished with the Mandalorian. 

The rumbling grew louder and Cato looked at the origin point with blurred vision, flinching back and squinting as the Krayt Dragon reared up out of the ground, screaming. It opened its maw, and Cato saw its insides alight with blue electricity and then someone shiny and silver shot out of its mouth and into the sky moments before a second massive explosion wracked the valley. 

Cato stumbled back, kept upright by Cobb, and shielded his eyes against the sand. His eyes locked on the armoured figure that landed a little ways in front of them and Cato ran towards him. He crashed into Din in what felt like seconds, throwing his arms around the Mandalorian, who staggered back a little before holding Cato close. 

“You _fucking_ idiot,” Cato mumbled, swatting the side of Din’s helmet. “I said not to do anything stupid, getting _swallowed_ by a _Krayt Dragon_ is _very_ high on that list!” he said, though the relieved smile on his face swept away real potential that he was angry. 

Din gave a half chuckle. “You were the one running on its back,” He retorted. “I saw you right before Cobb hit it with the missile,” 

Cato gave a breathless laugh and pulled back from Din, suddenly noticing that the Mandalorian—and now by association, himself—was covered in a green tinted slime. “Oh, _gross_ ,” Cato complained, making a face and trying to get the slime off of him. 

The Mandalorian in front of him gave a soft laugh and shook his head. “Come on,” He beckoned. 

A little while later and Cato sat with his back up against the speeder bike, head leaned back and eyes closed as fatigue consumed him. He had managed to mostly get rid of the green mucus that he had been covered in with the help of some scraps of cloth he found and handfuls of sand that he used like a bundle of steel wool while absentmindedly telling the Child that expensive silks were sometimes washed in sand. 

He could hear Din and Cobb talking nearby, listening into their conversation. 

“—This was well earned,” he heard Cobb say, followed by the rustling of what he guessed was bundled up armour. 

“It was our pleasure,” 

A brief silence followed before Cobb spoke again. “You take care of him,” He said more seriously. “You two...you're a good pair.” 

“I will,” Din promised. 

“Well,” The somber tone subsided. “I hope our paths cross again,” 

“As do I,” 

Cato heard Cobb take a few steps and then stopped. “Oh, and you tell your people, I wasn’t the one who broke that,” he added before walking back to the rest of his people. 

A couple seconds passed and Cato could hear Din moving around and packing the few items they had brought before crouching beside Cato and shaking him gently. 

“Cato, we need to go.” he said quietly. Cato nodded, opening his eyes the tiniest amount. Din helped Cato to his feet and onto the speeder bike before climbing on in front of him, having already removed the jetpack. 

With one last check to see if Cato was going to be okay for a little bit, they were soon speeding through the Dune Sea back towards Mos Eisley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man! You guys! Did you notice I figured out how to do italics?! Did I already share this? I'm not sure. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!


	9. VIII: Dealings & Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange new dream haunts Cato and they get a new lead on Mandalorians with the small hitch of having to reunite a woman and her husband.

Cato stood on a massive terrace in a huge city, the terrace floating at least a dozen stories up and sporting an entire park and cobbled plaza. He looked around in wonder, staring up at the buildings and cantilever plazas and parks that dotted the atmosphere of the city. Sculptures made of metal stood along the plaza he was in, depicting abstract interpretations of various concepts. 

As he looked around, he began to recognise the city as Sundari, the capital of Mandalore. 

Slowly, he walked across the plaza, looking around curiously. There was a notable lack of people, which Cato found odd. As he approached the center of the plaza, the familiar sound of a jetpack drew his attention upwards where he saw two figures descending from the sky. 

They both landed on the plaza smoothly, the light glinting off of their familiar style armour. The two mandalorians talked quietly together, and Cato watched as they looked out over the city. Cato took note of their decorated armour, both sets of beskar detailed in various colours. The slightly taller of the two—who Cato guessed was female based on their build and the slight variation in the armour style—had armour that was primarily black with red accents and the occasional gold highlight, though in places the silver of the beskar was still visible. The second, who Cato guessed was male, had armour that had mostly been left silver, but a deep bronze yellow decorated portions of it and the same red and gold accents. 

The two mandalorians stood almost back-to-back, looking around the plaza. The black armoured mandalorian looked right at Cato and drew two blasters, aiming them right at him. The second mandalorian turned around to face Cato as well, drawing their own blaster. 

Cato slowly raised his hands a bit, about to signal for surrender, but the black armoured mandalorian fired two shots, the charges going straight through Cato and sparking against the wall of the building behind him. He turned around quickly and saw three other mandalorians step out of the shadows, walking towards the two Mandalorians out towards the end of the plaza. 

Cato watched in confusion as the three mandalorians passed right through him, continuing to the center of the plaza where the duo met them. 

The two groups stood with a couple yards between them, surveying each other. From Cato’s vantage behind the trio he could see an emblem stamped onto their armour. It looked almost like three gashes carved by talons. 

“We appreciate your willingness to meet with us and discuss terms,” The Mandalorian at the head of the trio said, addressing the duo. 

The pair of mandalorians looked at each other and then the woman stepped forwards. “You seem to have misunderstood the circumstances of our meeting,” She said, her voice strong and authoritative. “We are not here to discuss terms, we are here to _meet_ terms.” 

In the blink of an eye, she had fired one of her blasters into the chest of one of the Mandalorians standing beside the leader of the trio, causing them to stumble back. 

Just as quick, her partner drew a staff from his back, a two-pronged blade on one end where electricity crackled, and jammed it into the chest of the Mandalorian across from him. 

As the fighting started, Cato watched in equal parts fascination and horror as the five Mandalorians battled. Blaster charges glanced off beskar and blades sparked against metal, seeking out skin. Electricity crackled and jumped across armour and the screech of metal on metal filled the plaza. 

The black armoured female Mandalorian yanked her opponents jetpack off their back, tossing the tool across the plaza and away from the fight. Then she grabbed them and took off, rocketing up towards the sky before dropping them, letting their body fall past the plaza, their wavering scream echoing across the city. Then she dropped back onto the plaza, going to tackle one of the two Mandalorians that had ganged up on her partner. 

She yanked the second one off her partner's back, letting her partner smash the but of his spear into her opponent before going after the Mandalorian in front of him. 

Cato watched in fascination as the two male Mandalorians fought, the one in silver and gold armour swinging the spear around trying to land a hit on the Mandalorian with rust red armour. When the red armoured Mandalorian shot their grappling line around the other’s arm, the gold armoured Mandalorian twisted the spear, touching the electrified end to the metal line, the electricity coursing up and short-circuiting the vambrace. 

In a flurry of movement, the red armoured Mandalorian lunged at the gold one, slipping past the point of the spear and unleashing a torrent of fire on them, causing them to stumble back, trying to keep from being torched. In a moment of decisiveness that Cato could barely follow, the red armoured Mandalorian twisted the spear out of gold one’s hand, the weapon clattering away.   
Vibroblades sparked off metal as the two quickly tried to tip the scales in their favour, side-stepping and ducking out of the way of attacks. The knives changed hands quickly, dropping from right to left when the right was pinned, and the whole fight seemed like a strange mutation of matter. The two mandalorians moved fluidly and confidently, like water, until they came into contact with each other and they became like stone, unyielding and rigid. 

Cato felt a tug on his consciousness urging him away. He tried to brush it off, transfixed by the fight unfolding before him, but it tugged incessantly eventually pulling him back through the murky waters of his mind and into consciousness. 

Bright light beat down on Cato and he recognised the cool metal of a canteen to his lips and the taste of dirt on his tongue, everything bringing him back to the present. He opened his eyes, wincing at the light, and found himself lying in the sand, Din’s hand cradling the back of his head and the Mandalorian himself leaning over him. Cato groaned and carefully sat up, Din ready to help at any moment, then took the canteen and finished the dirt flavoured water. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked after a moment as Cato’s thoughts sharpened and the sickness retreated to the back of his mind. 

Cato nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I’m good.” He confirmed. “I’m good,” he repeated quietly, mind wandering back to the dream about the Mandalorians. What had been going on? Had that all been _real_? Or truly just a dream? 

Din nodded silently and handed Cato a ration bar which he nibbled on but didn’t finish, his appetite having still not returned. 

Shortly after Cato had woken up, they were back on the speeder bike headed to Mos Eisley. 

And now, several hours later, Cato was pretty sure that time had lost all meaning. 

He wasn’t even really watching the landscape anymore, the seemingly endless expanse of sand dunes and the occasional rock no longer catching his interest. Instead, he faded in and out of awareness, sorting through jumbled memories of recent events and dreams whenever he managed to arrive back in the present and just sort of drifting away when not. 

It was in one of those moments when he had just become aware of his physical body and his surroundings again when he was suddenly airborne for a whole two seconds before crashing into the sand and tumbling a few times until he lay still, groaning in pain. 

This was the second time in two days—had it really been two days?—that he had been sent sprawling to the sand with far too much gusto for his liking and his face was starting to feel scraped and raw because of it. 

Cato picked himself up off the ground as quick as he could, eyes stinging and vision blurry from the sand grains that had gotten in his eyes. He had barely gotten to his hands and knees when someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him backwards, an arm around his throat keeping him in a headlock and bent at an awkward angle. Cato choked and struggled, trying to loosen the grip that threatened to cut off his air, but the cold barrel of a blaster against his temple was enough to dissuade him from further movement. 

The sounds of further scuffling caught Cato’s attention as he fell still, the sound of blaster charges and the clink of metal on metal, though it all sounded far off because of the rushing of blood in his ears as involuntary panic gripped him. The person holding him started to drag him backwards, Cato stumbling blindly with them to avoid asphyxiation. 

All he could see was bright light and the occasional flash of colour. 

“Cato—!” the familiar sound of Din’s voice drew Cato’s attention to the left, but it was cut off by someone else speaking in a language Cato couldn’t understand. “Wait!” Din said. “Don’t hurt the child,” Cato’s blood chilled at the thought of the Child being harmed and instinctively, he let his right hand fall from where it had been trying to keep the arm around his neck from restricting his breath any further. 

Before Cato could even think through what he was doing, his hand closed around the familiar cold hilt of his lightsaber, and flicked it backwards, the blade elongating and lodging into flesh behind him. 

Immediately, his captor cried out and loosened his grip on Cato, who pulled away and turned around, slicing them in half with a single motion.   
Cato rubbed the sand from his eyes with the back of his hand as best he could, staring down at the broken body in front of him just long enough to feel the creeping nausea. Then he turned quickly to assess what was happening with the Child. 

A hooded creature about half the height of Cato held the Child in one hand, a knife in the other. They were shouting something at Cato that he didn’t understand and gesturing to the Child with the blade, which made Cato’s heart race. 

“Cato! Stop!” Din shouted, making Cato freeze. He hadn’t even realised he had started walking forwards, lightsaber humming and hissing as the tip of the blade dragged through the sand. Cato quickly extinguished his saber and clipped it back onto his belt beneath the sash. Upon seeing Cato had stopped, the Mandalorian turned back to the hostage situation. “If you put one mark on him, there is no place you will be able to hide from us,” Cato could feel adrenaline pulsing through his veins, an almost foreign feeling considering how lethargic he has been the past few days. It felt almost unnatural. “We can strike a bargain,” Din suggested. “There's a lot of value in this wreckage. Take your pick,” he offered. 

Cato watched closely as the being looked from Din, to the burning wreckage of the speeder and its scattered cargo, to Cato, and then back again. 

“But leave the Child,” Din reiterated as the being took a half a step towards the wreckage. The being looked back at Din and gestured to him with the knife, saying something. Din looked over his shoulder and then back to the creature, who seemed certain on their decision. “Okay,” he said, reaching back and detached the jetpack from his back and stepping forward a few steps to set it on the ground. “Here, it's yours,” he stepped back again and the being gestured at him again, to which he backed up a few more steps. 

Cato took an instinctive step forwards, to which the creature started shouting again and waving the knife at Cato. 

“Cato, stop,” Din said firmly, keeping his voice even so as not to agitate the creature. “Back up,” Cato grit his teeth and took three steps backwards, which seemed to calm the hooded being a considerable amount. “It’s okay,” Din urged. 

Carefully, the hooded being took a couple steps forward, glancing between Cato and Din. Then a few more. They set the Child down next to the jetpack and grabbed it, holding their knife out as they walked away, head turning to look from Din to Cato and back again. Once they deemed they were in the clear, they dropped the knife and ran. 

Din held up a hand in Cato’s direction, urging him to stay put. Cato obeyed and stood still, watching the figure run while Din lifted the Child up and held him close. The jetpack suddenly lit up, lifting off from the ground and dragging the bearer with it. Cato looked back and saw Din watching while pressing buttons on his vambrace. After a couple loops, the thief’s grip failed and they fell to the ground, landed with a solid thud, their body unmoving. 

Cato frowned at them and glanced back at the person he had killed, their body still smoking a bit from where Cato’s lightsaber had sundered them. His stomach twisted into knots as he thought about how quickly the action had come over him, reminiscent of his time in the arena on Kappa V. He looked away quickly and walked back towards Din and the baby, rubbing his eyes to try and get the last of the sand out of them. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked, meeting Cato part way and holding the side of Cato’s face and neck with his free hand. His gloved fingers brushed over the raw sin of Cato’s cheek, seeking out any injuries. 

Cato nodded and winced a little. “I’m fine,” He said shortly, turning his face out of Din’s gentle hold. He looked over the ruins of the speeder bike and scowled. He had no idea how far they were from Mos Eisley due to his lack of being present in his own mind, but he couldn’t see it so that didn’t look promising. 

“Well, let’s gather this stuff up. I guess we’re walking.” Din sighed, looking around at the scattered items. 

☀︎︎

It was well into the night when they finally arrived back in Mos Eisley. They had been forced to give Cato a second dosage of the medicine as dusk fell, not wanting to risk staying out in the Dune Sea overnight. This being the case, Cato was experiencing being awake to see the stars for the first time in what felt like ages. 

The duo walked through Mos Eisley on sore feet, muscles aching and wanting nothing more than to just lay down and fall asleep in each other's arms. But, that was unrealistic. 

Cato had the satchel hanging across his chest, the bag stuffed with whatever could fit in it. In addition to the satchel, the Child was once again held against his chest using the sash of cloth that hung from his belt as a sling. Din, as per usual, was doing most of the heavy lifting, insisting that Cato’s health was still debatable. Cato tried to argue, but Din was stubborn and refused. So he carried the green Mandalorian armour that hadn’t fit in the bag—namely the helmet and jetpack—along with his jetpack, the huge piece of Krayt Dragon meat, and the other larger things they needed to bring all the way back to Mos Eisley. 

When they walked into the cantina, they certainly drew a lot of strange looks. Cato just kept his head down and made a point not to replay any memories set here from his past. 

“—I don’t know, looks like someone’s gonna be goin’ home empty handed.” Peli’s voice drifted through the low chatter of the cantina, the familiarity of it making it stand out against the background noise. 

Cato and Din walked up to her booth, where she was gambling with a massive insect-like creature that Cato was pretty sure he’d never seen before.

Peli glanced up at them as they approached, then back at her hand, but did a double take and looked pointedly at the Mandalorian helmet dangling in a net. “You finally found another Mandalorian and you killed him?” She asked, unimpressed. 

“He wasn't a Mandalorian,” Din explained. “I bought this armour off of him though,” 

“What’d that set you back?” Peli asked, seeming perpetually skeptical as always. 

“Killed the Krayt Dragon for him,” he explained. 

Peli’s eyebrows rose and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, is that all,” she muttered sarcastically. 

“He was my last lead of finding other Mandalorians,” Din continued. 

Peli’s gambling opponent made a chittering sound, which Cato assumed was its language. 

“Well, you might be in luck,” Peli said. “Doctor Mandible here says he might be able to connect you with someone who can help, _if_ —!” she leaned closer to them for emphasis. “—You cover his call this round,” she gestured at their game and then spread her hands. “That’s what he said,” She claimed apologetically. 

Din paused for a split second. “What’s the bet?” He asked. 

Peli pursed her lips. “Five hundred,” She answered. 

“That’s a high-stakes game,” 

“Hey, he’s on a hot streak,” She reasoned with a shrug. 

Din sighed and reached into one of the pouches on his belt and tossed the necessary credits on the table. 

Peli glanced over them quickly and looked back up to her opponent. “The pot right?” She asked. They answered with another series of clicking noises. “Ha! Idiot’s Array!” Peli shouted, slamming her cards onto the table to show her winning hand. “Pay up, thorax!” she reached across the table and grabbed the credits, shovelling them into a pouch on her hip. 

“I thought you said he was on a hot streak,” Din deadpanned. 

“Pfft, stop your crying! You’ll rust!” Peli dismissed. Cato scoffed in amusement, watching as she finished collecting the credits and now listened to the man. “Alright, he says the contact will rendezvous at the hangar. They’ll tell you where to find some Mandalorians. That’s what you wanted, right?” 

“Yes,” 

“Alright, well, stop your mopin’,” Peli said, climbing out of the booth. “And more importantly,” She added as she led Cato and Din back through the cantina. “Did you bring back any of that dragon meat?” she asked. “Better not have any maggots on it, I don't like maggots,” she grumbled to herself as she elbowed her way through various patrons of the cantina to get them to the exit. 

Back at the hangar, Cato sat on a crate turning Va’syll’s ring over on its chain while staring absently at the flame from one of the turbine engines they were using to cook the dragon meat. He kept thinking back to his dreams, all of the memories and weird twisted versions of his life, fighting and killing himself in an arena with statues of his family and friends, it was all so strange. And then of course the most recent one, about the Mandalorians fighting each other in Sundari. 

It was hard to tell the timeframe of the dream because it was just that, a dream. But the city seemed to be how Cato remembered from his short time there, so maybe it was more recent. If it was recent then that led him to believe that one of those two groups was part of Death Watch, the splinter group of Mandalorians who had opposed Duchess Satine Kryze’s pacifist regime and who Cato had heard about through Obi Wan. Or perhaps it was just quarrelling clans? And that was all assuming that the dream _meant_ anything and wasn’t just an odd narrative created by Cato’s subconscious. 

“Hey,” Cato looked up as Din sat beside him, caught off guard by the Mandalorian’s sudden greeting. 

“Hey,” Cato mumbled back. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked quietly. “You don’t seem all...here,” He clarified awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to say it. 

Cato sighed and curled one of his fists around Va’syll’s ring gently, the other raking through his curly hair. “Yeah, yeah, just...dreams.” he said heavily, not sounding very convincing. 

Din tilted his head to the side slightly. “Dreams?” He asked. Cato nodded and Din was silent for a moment. “What do you dream about?” He asked after a few seconds, clearly unsure if he had crossed a line.

Cato shook his head slightly and shrugged. “Just...things.” He answered vaguely. Din nodded, and looked away to keep an eye on the Child, not pushing Cato for a more specific answer. But Cato needed to tell someone, needed to get this weight off his chest. And if anyone had to listen, he _wanted_ that person to be Din. “I–I—,” Cato faltered, still not daring to look at Din directly, though he could see that he had turned to look at Cato fully. “Sometimes it’s memories. From when I was a kid, before I left Alderaan. Sometimes it’s weird twisted versions of my life—,” Cato’s voice caught in his throat as he was suddenly thrust back into the memory of tearing Din’s chestplate off and thrusting his lightsaber through his heart, the Mandalorian falling dead under him. He scrambled out of the memory quickly, shuddering at the thought. “—like I...like I just wasn’t...me,” it wasn’t totally true. In those dreams, Cato still felt eerily like himself. 

A tense silence stretched between them for a few seconds and Cato raced to close the silence, not wanting any questions about those dreams. 

“I see my sister in a lot of them.” he blurted out. 

“Your sister?” Din asked, tilting his head again in that way that made Cato just want to kiss him. For someone who wore a helmet almost all the time he was quite expressive. 

Cato nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I don’t think I’ve told you about her,” despite how close the two were, they rarely discussed their family or childhood, the two subjects holding painful memories for the both of them that they both thought were best left behind. He stared at the fire intently, almost as if he could make it show her to him. “My little sister,” He mumbled. “She was only six when I left. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” 

He could almost hear the sounds of marching Imperial troopers and the flurry of blaster charges, accompanied by the screaming and crying. 

Almost. 

He had been in so many fights now that they all blended together, a crushing realization that he barely remembered the last time he was with his family. 

When Obi Wan had dragged him away from the house that night, the rain soaking their clothes and the mud mixing with the blood from scrapes and cuts, Cato knew, deep down, that he would never see his family again. But he had held onto hope. Hope that they survived, that his mother had been able to defend Adrestia and his father, get them to safety. But that hope had been extinguished when Alderaan was destroyed and there had been no sign of them anywhere. 

Cato blinked and realised that there were tears gathered in his eyelashes, a few having escaped down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly, biting back the grief. He looked over at Din and forced a tight lipped smile. “But they're just dreams,” he said, standing up and going to move the Child back from the flames a little bit as he had wandered dangerously close. 

“Hey! Don’t overcook it, Treadwell! I like it medium rare,” Peli shouted, announcing her return to the hangar after standing outside for a little while to meet the contact. “I’m not some Rodian, for crying out loud,” She grumbled, walking over to speak with Din and Cato. She exhaled as she walked up to Din, who had stood up. “Alright, here's the deal,” she started. “A Mandalorian covert is close. It’s in this sector, one system trailing.” 

“Are they the ones that left Nevarro?” Din asked. 

Peli shrugged. “Don’t know. All I know is the contact will lead you to them,” 

“How much will it cost me?” 

“Well, that’s the great news, it's free,” Peli said. “Aside from a finder’s fee of course,” she added. 

“What's the not-great news?” Din asked with a sigh, knowing that there had to be a downside to this. 

“Nothin’. It’s all great,” Peli insisted. 

Din nodded. “Okay,” he turned to look at Cato who was standing close by and listening. 

“ _However_ ,” Peli said, drawing Din’s attention back to her. “There is one small skank in the scud pie,” 

“Which is?” Din asked impatiently. 

“The contact wants passage to the system,” Cato frowned slightly. This didn’t seem like _too_ big of a deal, which made him suspect there was a catch. 

“Do you vouch for them?” Din asked. 

“On my life,” Peli answered immediately. 

“Fine,” Din agreed. 

“ _And_ …” Din turned back to Peli again. “No hyperdrive,” She said. 

“You want me to travel sub-light? Deal's off,” 

“It’s one sector over,” The mechanic argued. 

“Moving fast is the only thing keeping me safe. Keeping _us_ safe,” Din said, gesturing towards Cato and the Child. 

“These are mitigating circumstances,” Peli insisted with a clenched jaw. 

“What do you mean ‘ _mitigating_ ’?” Din questioned. 

Movement near the entrance caught Cato’s eye and he looked up to see a shadowy figure moving into the light. A frog woman stepped into the light of the fire, her skin a dull magenta and clothes simple. The most interesting thing though was the faintly glowing case on her back. 

Din signed and sent a glare to Peli, though it was mostly lost because of the expressionless helmet. “I’m not a taxi service,” He told her grumpily. 

“I know, I know, I hear you. But I can vouch for her.” Peli assured.

The frog woman came to stand beside Peli and Cato saw that the case on her back was a large glass, cylindrical case containing round, orange eggs. 

“What’s the cargo?” Din asked. 

Peli passed the message on to the frog woman, communicating in a strange language of croaks and creaks. The frog woman responded with a short croak and Peli nodded. 

“It's her spawn. She needs her eggs fertilized by the equinox or her line will end. If you jump into hyperspace they’ll die. She said her husband has settled on the estuary moon of Trask in the system of the gas giant Kol Iben,” Peli explained. 

Cato frowned, skeptical of how she could have gotten all of that from a single croak. 

“She said all that?” Din asked, apparently also skeptical. 

Peli gave a half shrug. “I paraphrased,” 

Din sighed and Cato knew he didn’t like this idea—neither did Cato—but he also knew that Din was desperate to find other Mandalorians. “Is she _sure_ there are Mandalorians there?” he asked. 

Peli translated the question and then translated the response back. “She said her husband has seen them,” 

Silence fell as Din thought about the deal, Cato drawing shapes in the sand with the toe of his boot. 

The frog woman excused herself from the conversation, walking a little ways away. 

“Do you know the husband?” Din asked as she left. 

Peli looked past him to the woman. “No. I just met her ten minutes before you walked in,” she said, seeming to not share any of Din’s concerns. 

“I thought you said you vouched for her on your life?” 

Peli crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, taking a piece of the dragon meat one of the droids held out for her. “What can I say? I’m an excellent judge of character,” 

The exasperated sigh that Din let out was audible even through the modulation of the helmet. 

From behind them, the frog woman said something to Peli, to which the mechanic responded in the same language, gesturing vaguely at Din and Cato. 

“What did you tell her?” Din asked. Cato was half expecting Peli to have just told the frog woman that they had agreed with no issue and he suspected Din was expecting something similar. 

“Hm? Oh, I was just telling her how you guys are married,” She said with a shrug. 

Cato blinked in surprise, taken aback. 

“You know we’re not married, right?” Din asked after a couple seconds of silence save the sounds of sizzling meat. 

Now it was Peli’s turn to be taken aback. “You’re _not_?” She asked incredulously. Cato and Din both nodded in confirmation. “Sheesh, didn’t see that one comin’,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peli told everyone Cato and Din were married. She'd just recount the story of the Mandalorian, his husband, and their weird lizard-bat child.


	10. IX: For One Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soft moment between madness.

Cato woke up to the sound of the compartment door sliding open. 

Before they had left Mos Eisley, Din and Cato had broken down the makeshift room that Cato had been sleeping in while sick, moving the bedroll and blankets back into the compartment that often served as their bed. After taking off, Cato had decided to go sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pushing his hair out of his face, Cato sat up, looking at Din who stood at the doorway, looking at Cato with a slightly cocked head. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Din apologised. 

Cato yawned and ran his hands down his face. “It’s okay, I think we’ve both gotten used to the idea that after I fall asleep I’m all but dead until the dirt water revives me,” he mumbled tiredly. It felt good to actually _sleep_ and not...whatever happens when the medicine fades. At first Cato hadn’t known there was a difference, but now that he had slept from being tired and not soul-sucking-sickness the difference was so stark he was amazed he hadn’t seen it before. “Are you—?” Cato started to ask, only to be cut off as he made eye contact with the Child who was lifting one of frog-lady’s eggs from the case. “Hey—!” he exclaimed, drawing Din’s attention. 

Upon seeing the Child’s actions, Din ran towards him, muttering frantically under his breath. “No, no, no, no,” 

Not seeming concerned or bothered by Din and Cato’s negative response, the Child popped the egg into his mouth. 

“Well, _fuck_ ,” Cato sighed heavily. 

Din closed the lid to the case with a sharp snap and lifted the Child up. “That is not food,” He scolded. “Don’t do that again,” he said firmly, then looked at the case to the Child and back at Cato, whose face was currently in his hands. “Nap time,” Din decided. Cato lifted his face from his hands as Din and the Child approached. “Mind if we join you? We have a long flight ahead,” 

Cato scooted over to the side and pulled the blankets that had been wrapped around him back a bit in an inviting gesture. Din placed the Child in his little hammock that hung by the door to the compartment. Cato watched as the Child fidgeted in the hammock and then burped. “You’re a menace, you know that?” Cato told him. 

Din scoffed in amusement as he ducked under the hammock and lay beside Cato. “I don’t think he cares,” he grumbled, fumbling to press a button on his vambrace, which caused the door to slide shut. Cato snickered, which he figured he shouldn’t be doing considering the rather morbid events that had just transpired but he couldn’t help it. “What are you laughing at?” Din asked, looking up Cato who was sitting up. “The kid just ate a _tiny_ child,” 

Cato’s snickering increased at the incredulous tone of Din’s voice and the utter ridiculousness of all this. “Okay, well, first of all,” Cato held up a finger. “In the menace’s defense, Peli said they were unfertilized, so it's not like they’re _currently_ unborn children,” Din groaned. “—I’m not saying that it's _ideal_ that he just ate one of the eggs! I’m just saying that it’s not the worst circumstance. _Morally_ however, it is indeed a bit fucked up—,” 

Cato was broken off as Din wrapped his arms around Cato and pulled him down to lay beside him, Din’s arms holding him close to his chest. “ _Please_ shut up,” The Mandalorian said fondly, resting his chin on Cato’s head. 

Cato wriggled in Din’s grip a little bit so that the bottom edge of Din’s helmet wasn’t digging into his scalp. Then he tilted his head a little so he could speak without being impeded by the fabric on Din’s cape. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to smother me right now,” he quipped. 

“Cato,” Din said seriously. “It’s nap time. Now _shush_ ,” 

A couple seconds passed in silence. 

“So you _are_ trying to kill me,” Cato said, wondering how long he could tease Din for. 

The Mandalorian groaned in exasperation. 

“I’m just saying, you didn’t deny it, so really I have no choice but to assume you're trying to kill me by cuddling.” Cato continued, a grin spreading across his face at Din’s annoyance. “Afterall—,” the lights suddenly clicked off, leaving the three in complete darkness. He could feel Din shifting around, temporarily removing his arms from around Cato. “Hey, did you turn off the lights? Is this another part of your plot to murder—,” 

Cato’s words were cut short as Din fitted his lips against Cato’s and suddenly it was like Cato forgot how to breath. 

Blissful seconds passed—or maybe it was minutes, Cato couldn’t tell—and the two eventually broke apart for air, Cato left speechless as he sucked in breaths like a man almost drowned. He couldn’t see anything, it was too dark, not even the outline of Din visible in the blackness. But he could feel Din’s forehead pressed against his own, their breath mingling, and their legs tangled together. 

“I said shut up,” Din mumbled affectionately. 

A couple more seconds passed in silence, Cato unable to form words or even do anything besides stare into the darkness in front of him that he knew was Din. 

Din gave a breathless chuckle at Cato’s silence and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “ _Gar taylir ner kar’ta, cyar’ika. Jii bal ratiin._ ” he mumbled. 

Cato finally came to his senses, a triumphant grin making its way onto his face. “Well, if I had known that’s how you’d shut me up when I was annoying you I would have done it a long time ago.” Cato said, unable to keep the glee from his voice. “Well, I’ll guess I’ll have to annoy you more often from now on,” He said with a sigh. 

Din sighed heavily and Cato could feel him shaking his head in exasperation. “Ridiculous,” He muttered under his breath, barely audible. 

Cato just smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to Din’s lips. He wound his hand into the Mandalorian’s soft hair, his hand bumping against the helmet as he did, which lay just above their heads. Din kissed back, holding Cato’s face in his hands. “ _Bah vheh bal karnau,_ ” Cato whispered, the words almost swallowed by the kiss. But then he felt Din smile against his lips. 

They pulled back again, finally giving into the ache for rest in their bones and held each other close, eyes sliding shut. 

“I’ve missed this,” Cato heard Din whispered before they both allowed themselves to be pulled away by sleep, safe and comforted in each other’s embrace.   
For that moment everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> Gar taylir ner kar’ta, cyar’ika: you hold my heart, darling  
>  Jii bal ratiin: noe and always   
> Bah vheh bal karnau: to dust and starlight


	11. X: Blood & Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A run-in with some New Republic rangers leads to a less than ideal situation. Meanwhile Cato starts identifying a terrifying new symptom of whatever sickness clings to him.

A rapid beeping noise was what woke Cato up several hours later, almost hitting his head on the wall when he was startled awake. 

“What the fuck?” He mumbled blearily, watching as Din was already climbing out of the compartment, helmet back in place. “What is that?” He asked, half falling out of the compartment in his sleepy daze. 

“It’s an incoming transmission,” Din answered, already part way up the ladder to the cockpit. “Stay down here,” 

Cato picked himself up fully off the floor and hurried up the ladder behind Din. In the cockpit, he ran up behind Din’s seat, grabbing the back of it to keep himself steady as he looked out the viewports, trying to figure out what was happening. 

“Razor Crest, M-one-eleven. Come in Razor Crest, do you copy?” a voice over the radio said. 

Two ships pulled up on either side of the Crest, and Cato stumbled back, ducking behind Din’s seat. X-wings. Cato knew that the chances of them being able to see him from their ships were slim, and overall the chances of him being recognised were next to nothing but he didn’t want to risk it. He couldn’t risk it. 

“This Razor Crest,” Din answered after a moment. “Is there a problem?” he asked, and Cato could hear the tiredness in his voice. 

“We noticed your transponder is not emitting,” The same voice responded. 

“Yes, I’m pre-Empire surplus. I’m not required to run a beacon,” Din lied easily. 

“That was before.” The voice answered. “This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction, all craft are required to run a beacon,” 

Din was quiet for a moment. “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll get right on it,” He said eventually. 

Another silence stretched for a few seconds before one of the x-wing pilots responded. “Not a problem. Safe travels,” 

“May the Force be with you,” Din said after a half moment, sounding so awkward that Cato had to clap a hand over his mouth and hold his breath to stop from laughing. 

“And also with you,” the pilot responded. 

Cato let out the breath he was holding and watched, waiting for the x-wings to make their exit and let them continue on their way. But they didn’t. 

“Just one more thing,” The pilot said. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m gonna need you to send us a ping. We’re out here sweeping for Imperial holdouts,” The pilot said. 

“I’ll let you know if I see any,” Din said, clearly avoiding their request.

“I’m...still gonna need you to send us that ping,” 

Cato watched as Din looked around the cockpit, either making a show of trying to comply or simply looking for other options, Cato wasn’t sure which. “I’m not sure I have that hardware online,” He said after a moment. 

“We can wait,” 

The tension in the cockpit thickened as their chances of getting through this smoothly were depleting by the second. Cato clenched his jaw and wondered briefly if he should pull the identity card. However, he quickly dismissed that idea as it would end up creating more obstacles for them to get through. 

“Yeah...I uh...it doesn’t seem to be working,” Din answered after a few tense seconds. 

“That’s too bad. If we can’t confirm you're not Imperial you’ll have to follow us to the outpost at Adelphi. They’ll run your tabs,” 

Cato felt his heart rate quicken. “Fuck,” He breathed, biting his lip. He could not go to any New Republic outpost if he had _any_ hope of staying with Din. The moment he was identified by any New Republic official he was done. 

“Oh wait,” Din said suddenly. “There it is. Transmitting now,” Cato heard him flip a switch as well as the frog-lady stir and start to wake up. 

He had just started to creep across the floor to get to her and attempt to inform her of the situation and tell her to stay quiet when she awoke with a gasp. 

“Be quiet!” Din hissed over his shoulder. 

“What’s that?” the pilot asked. 

“Uh...nothing. The hypervac is drawing off the exhaust manifold,” Din said quickly. 

Cato nudged the frog-lady’s leg with his toe, drawing her attention to him. He held a finger up to his lips, praying that she had the common sense to listen. Thankfully, she seemed to understand and quieted her voice. 

“Carson, can you switch over to channel two?” the second pilot asked. 

“Copy,” The first one answered, then the line went silent. 

“This isn’t good,” Cato whispered as quietly as he could, still crouched behind the pilot’s seat. “We can’t let them take us to a base. If they recognise me—,” he stopped himself, not daring to even finish the sentence. 

Din was silent, but Cato knew he had heard. 

Seconds passed agonizingly slow, and then the sound of shifting metal and hydraulics caught their attention. Looking out the viewports, Cato saw the x-wings shifting into their attack formation. 

“Was your craft within the proximity of New Republic Correctional Transport Bothan-Five?” one of the pilots asked, coming back online. 

_Fuck fuck fuck._ The _fucking_ job they took getting Qin out of prison. 

The _Crest_ suddenly careened to one side as Din accelerated, Cato being thrown to the side at the unexpected change in speed. He picked himself up quickly, standing and looking over Din’s shoulder at the scanner. 

“They’re pursuing,” he relayed. “You’ll have to find a place to hide, you can’t outrun them when they’re this close without using the hyperdrive,” He informed, thinking back to his limited experience piloting x-wings. 

“Hold on,” Din warned, not bothering to verbally acknowledge Cato’s information. Cato knew he had heard. 

Cato quickly sat in the second passenger seat, giving up on trying to buckle himself in when his hands were trembling so badly that he couldn’t line up the buckles. He curled his hands into fists, trying to ease the tremors, but it did little to help. The medicine was wearing off again. 

“Razor Crest, stand down. We will fire. I repeat, we will fire,” The first pilot warned as the x-wings pursued them into the atmosphere of the nearby planet, the three ships whipping around golden clouds. 

Din piloted the _Crest_ around a massive bank of clouds and then brought it to a near standstill, maneuvering it around. Then as the clouds below them thinned, the _Crest_ was suddenly plummeting through the atmosphere. Cato was thrown from the seat and smacked his head against the floor, making black spots dance across his vision. The frog-lady was screaming as they plummeted and, honestly, Cato felt like doing the same. 

He had managed to half stand when a wave of dizziness and nausea crashed over him, sending him immediately back to the floor with his eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t even tell if he was still in the ship at this point, everything having just gone silent and nothing but the backs of his eyelids visible. 

Cato blinked and when he opened his eyes the ship was dark. Alarmed, he sat up, and as his hands fumbled to support him he realised he couldn’t feel them. Looking down, he found the bare skin of his hands a ghastly white, blue and purple creeping in at the tips of his fingers and the skin dry and almost translucent. His breath came out in little puffs of fog in front of him and he looked around. What had happened? A second ago they had been in the air running from the x-wings, where were they? And where was everyone else? 

Shakily, Cato got to his feet, his limbs feeling heavy and useless as if they were carved of ice. Using the control panels as support, Cato moved around the cockpit of the ship, trying to see what was wrong and if he could fix it, but the letters and numbers displayed on the little screens held no meaning for Cato. He groaned and tapped the side of his head harshly with his knuckles. 

_Think, think, think, think._ He told himself. _You’ve_ flown _this ship before, you can fly almost anything. You_ know _how to do this_. But it did nothing. It was as if everything was written in a foreign language and yet Cato could still recognise it as Basic. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ He wondered fearfully. 

He could worry about his head later, right now he needed to find Din and the others. He turned away from the control panels and staggered to the door, trying to get to the cargo bay. 

Getting down the ladder proved to be difficult, Cato's fingers stiff and not entirely feeling like his own, his feet kept slipping on the rungs and Cato almost fell a few times. But eventually he made it, ungracefully jumping off the last few rungs and almost collapsing on the spot. 

The cargo bay was a mess. All of the crates and boxes that were stored here were strewn all over the place, loose cables hung from the ceiling, and snow drifted through the ship lazily, led by harsh, biting winds. 

In the middle of the bay, Cato saw a temporary camp set up, a small heating unit lighting the area up with a faint warm glow. There was a hunched figure by the familiar case of eggs, the sleeping frog woman wrapped in blankets. A little ways away, Din sat with his back against the wall, unmoving, and the Child tucked against his side, wrapped in his cloak. 

_Din_. Cato tried to say, but found he couldn’t form the words, he was too cold. He shuffled closer, trying to get to the small group, but he was so cold, his movements were jerky and stagnant and he couldn’t seem to move his limbs properly. He persevered, wrapping his arms around him in a feeble attempt to consolidate body warmth, but he didn’t think he had much left. Everything just felt cold. 

Something crunched under his feet and Cato looked down, seeing the blanket of snow that now covered this portion of the ground, a stark white against the dark steel of the ship’s floors. But wait...there was something else. A small, bright red droplet of something sat in the snow, stark against the white. 

Blood. 

Cato shuddered and looked up to the group, trying to determine if any of them were injured. They didn’t seem to be, but he couldn’t be sure from here. Cato looked back at the blood and found that there was another one beside it. 

Hesitantly, he reached up to his face and wiped his shivering hands across the bottom half of his face. It came away with blood on his fingers. 

_Fuck_. Cato breathed, though he was pretty sure no sound came out. Had he hit his face on something? Maybe that was why he was having trouble reading the display screens, maybe he had a concussion. 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then took a couple more small steps. 

A violent cough tore itself from his chest, making his chest ache and his throat burn. Cato fell to one knee, one hand braced in the snow and the other clasped over his chest as the burning sensation continued. He felt hot blood fall in droplets from his mouth, and when he looked down at the snow, the growing stain of red confirmed it. He tried to push himself back to his feet, but he just couldn’t seem to muster the strength, instead collapsing onto the snow, having no choice but to watch with hazy thoughts as the blood seeped into the snow. 

Cato wasn’t sure how much time had passed, if any, but next thing he knew he was being gently rolled onto his back and his head lifted slightly. 

As his vision came into focus enough to see who was holding him, Cato let out a strangled gasp and tried to push away from the stranger, but they held onto him tightly, trying to keep him from struggling. But Cato didn’t stop, he writhed and thrashed around, trying to break free of the icy grip he was held in. He tried to scream, to yell, shout, _anything_. But no words came out. 

He managed to get a hand free and clawed mercilessly at the bitingly cold armour the stranger wore head to toe. The metal was ice cold against Cato’s already freezing fingertips, but he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be taken. He clawed over the armour, blunt fingernails catching on seams and tearing and breaking, but he didn’t care, he just continued his assault, seeking out skin between the pieces of armour. 

He managed to wrench his other hand free when he pressed his thumb in between the middle knuckles of the stranger’s hand, forcing them to alleviate the pain by loosening their grip. Once both hands were free, Cato sat up and threw himself at the stranger, his cold and bloody hands seeking out the stranger’s neck beneath the layers of fabric of their cloak. 

Icy fingers found purchase on the stranger’s throat and Cato started to squeeze the air from their lungs, crushing their throat. They struggled underneath him, gloved hands grabbing his wrists and pulling, but Cato couldn’t feel anything in his hands anymore so he was unbothered by any pain this assassin was trying to inflict on him. 

“—Cato!” 

He winced a little as his name was called from nearby, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the stranger below him. They had tried to take him away, to kill him. He had to kill them. They _deserved_ it. 

“Cato! Stop! Stop—!” the same voice called, sounding laboured and strangled. “Cato! It’s—,” they broke off with a gasp. “It’s me!” 

Blood was falling from Cato’s mouth again, he could see it falling onto the murderer’s armour in droplets, sliding off into the snow as they writhed under Cato. They lifted one of their hands jerkily towards Cato's face and he flinched out of the way, knowing better than to let them get too close. 

“It—it’s m-me,” They said weakly. 

And suddenly everything clicked into place and it was like the whole world shattered. 

Cato released his grip on the Mandalorian and fell back, scrambling away until his back was pressed against a nearby crate. He stared in horror as Din carefully picked himself up off the ground so he was kneeling, one of his hands resting gingerly on his neck. He took his hand away from his neck after a moment and then looked up and met Cato’s horrified gaze. 

“Din,” Cato breathed, a broken note to his voice as the truth of what had just happened—what he had _done_ —settled in. 

Din stood and took a few steps towards Cato, but stopped when Cato held his hands out and scrambled away again. 

All Cato could think of was the dream he had had, the cold metal of the beskar on his hands as he ripped the chestplate off and the sickening satisfaction he had felt when he plunged his lightsaber into Din’s chest, pinning the Mandalorian to the ground with a blade through his heart. 

Was that his future? Was his fate to kill the man who had saved him countless times? The man he loved? 

He took a wavering breath, trying to calm the disparate hum of nerves under his skin. “Just—,” He choked on the words. “Just...stay away,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *that on Kronk meme* oh yeah, it's all comin together
> 
> Here we go! Cato's days are gonna be super flip flopped from here on out. Just cause he's fine one day doesn't mean he will be the next. 
> 
> I'm trying to get this version all caught up/published before I post the next part (chapter 27) one either here or wattpad (which is where this has been going until I decided to try this site as well)


	12. XI: Into the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice spiders and less angst

Din sat leaning against one of the walls of the _Crest_ with the Child curled up at his side, trying desperately to bundle into his cape, though the old fabric did little to drive back the biting cold. Din was trying to sleep, or at least pretending he was, but truth be told he wasn’t sure he could after what had just transpired. He tilted his head slightly to one side, the dull ache in his neck becoming more persistent at his movement. 

It was growing darker inside the ship, though the small portable heater and lasting daylight provided plenty of light to see by without any of the vision enhancements that his helmet provided. The ruined interior of his ship was laid out clearly in front of him. He knew he should be thinking about how to fix it and how he was going to get them off this frozen planet, but all he could think about was Cato and the look of pure fear he had held in his eyes that had quickly morphed into a feral kind of determination and ferocity that Din had never seen adorn him before. 

If it hadn’t been terrifying and painful enough to have Cato not seem to recognise him and try to kill him, seeing the horror spread across his features as he stared at Din after he seemed to come back to his senses caused a deep, unparalleled pain in Don’s chest. And Cato’s refusal to allow Din anywhere near him felt like someone had just plunged their hand into his chest, holding his heart in a suffocating grasp and not letting go. 

Cato had vanished further into the ship shortly after the whole ordeal, taking refuge outside of the cockpit near the maintenance panels that allowed access to the ship’s inner hardware. 

From past experience, Din knew that Cato’s comfort spot on the _Crest_ was laying in the crawlspace meant to access the wiring for the laser cannons. Cato had told Din before that being there helped calm him down, the small space acting as a visualisation of keeping himself and his unchecked emotions contained. In addition to that he had said that being able to look at the wiring for the laser cannons acted as a method of relaxation. He understood weapons, he knew how they worked and if he ran through the various alternative circuit paths enough times he would start to feel better. 

But so much had changed since then, Din wondered if it still had the same effect. 

Din had tried to approach Cato several times since he had disappeared into the _Crest_. He had tried to convince Cato to come get food and water, let Din clean and wrap his hands, and stay warm, but Cato had shook his head and stumbled back into a wall. Then Din had tried to bring him food and water, but Cato had turned him away and then disappeared to the crawl space. 

The final time Din had climbed up the ladder and sat a little ways away from Cato, silent for a few moments before finally speaking. He told Cato it wasn’t his fault for what had happened and that he didn’t blame him. He said that it would be okay, that it was the sickness, that they would find a way to fix all of this. 

But Cato didn’t believe him, and honestly Din wasn’t sure he believed himself either. Cato had shaken his head and told Din to leave, the words venomous and biting as they left his tongue. Cato had told him he wanted to be alone, that he didn’t want to see Din or think about him. He wanted to be _alone_. 

Those words had left Din frozen for a few moments, then he had wordlessly left, not wanting to admit how much those words had hurt. 

And now he sat here, trying to sleep while he was powerless to help Cato. 

_Dank Farrik_. He cursed to himself, gritting his teeth in frustration. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t let Cato fall into the murky depths of malady again, but it seemed that malaise pulled him close at every turn, desperate to drag him into that oblivion. He thought back to the words Cato had angrily spat at him when they had been on Tatooine going after Shand—that chapter in their adventures feeling like a lifetime ago. 

_‘You can’t protect me. No one can.’_ His words echoed in Din’s head and he got the sinking feeling that Cato was right, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Din couldn’t protect Cato from everything, that was becoming blatantly obvious. But whatever this sickness was, he would find a way to help. He would fight the whole galaxy and die a thousand times over if it meant he could help. 

Din looked down at the sleeping Child, his skin a little paler than usual in places a little pinker than usual in others on account of the cold. He felt his troubled expression soften slightly at the sight of the Child, though the roiling storm of anxiety still lay waste to his thoughts. 

A bright colour in the corner of his vision caught Din’s attention and he turned to focus on it, finding that it was a smearing of red across his chestplate. He locked his jaw as he stared at the small, thin smears of blood across his armour from Cato’s hands. Frost was starting to creep over the blood and that just made Din’s dread grow. It was cold, getting colder, and the ship wasn’t going anywhere. They weren’t making it off this planet unless Din thought of a way to fix the ship and the window of opportunity was shrinking. 

With that uneasy thought, Din drifted into an troubled sleep

☀︎︎

Cato wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep or for how long he had been unconscious, but when he became aware of himself and his surroundings again he could tell something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what, but he could feel it in his bones. 

Carefully, Cato slid out of the crawlspace and knelt by the ladder down into the cargo bay. He was silent, listening for any signs of movement, but it was still except the soft whistling of wind. Cradling his numb and now slightly bloodied hands, Cato pursed his lips, knowing he had to look around. 

With a resigned puff of air, he set his hands on the bitingly old metal of the floor, the frozen durasteel feeling like a thousand needles pricking his skin. Cautiously, Cato peeked into the cargo bay, looking in all the nooks and crannies he could see before looking towards the space where Din, the kid, and the frog lady had been sitting. The ship was empty. 

The feeling of unease persisted and Cato carefully lowered himself into the cargo bay, his movements still stiff from the growing cold. 

Once his feet touched the ground, Cato fell still, listening for any signs of the other three passengers. Silence stretched ominously throughout the ship. 

Cato moved through the scattered crates to the opening that had been torn in the side of the Crest from the crash. Peeking outside, he could see two sets of footsteps leading out and as he knelt to get closer, the smaller footprints left by the Child became apparent, also leading away from the ship. Cato stood up again and glanced around, the bad feeling growing worse. 

Propped against the wall a few feet from Cato, the amban rifle sat. 

Barely even thinking, Cato grabbed it and then rifled through a few crates to find the spare rounds of ammunition for it. He found it on the seconds crate, grabbing a handful of the silver cylinders and shoving them into the side pockets of his trousers and loading the amban rifle so it was ready before he was off, moving quietly through the snow and following the tracks towards a tunnel in one of the walls of ice and his growing sense of danger. 

Cato stopped at the mouth of the looming, jagged tunnel and stood in silence, staring into the frozen depths. 

The sound of a blaster firing caught his attention and quickly stepped out of view from the mouth of the tunnel, hoping to maintain any semblance of an upper hand. From the decay of the blaster charge, an odd sound arose, steadily growing louder. At first Cato thought he had been making it up, but it grew steadily louder. Like a thousand tiny icepicks skittering across ice. 

Cato heard the blaster fire a few more times, much closer now, and he could also hear heavy footsteps in addition to the unsettling scuttling noises coming from the ice. 

Dozens of small, greyish shapes began to flood out of the mouth of the tunnel and Cato recognised with a jolt that they were spiders. Large, spider-like creatures scurrying out of the ice. 

Then two humanoid figures emerged closely followed by even larger spiders. Cato took one look at the largest spider yet, nearly half as tall as Cato, its front legs extending towards Din who was hurriedly ushering the frog-woman forwards. 

Cato lifted the amban rifle and quickly focused on the massive target, disintegrating it in a split second. Then he thrust the rifle forward, catching another large spider with the electrified prongs and causing it to let out a horrible hissing scream. 

Not daring to dwell on it, Cato quickly backed away from the wall of ice as more and more spiders poured out, each wave seeming to be bigger and bigger than the last. 

He did his best to disintegrate the big ones when he could and zap all the other ones, but there were so many and he was so cold he was surprised he wasn’t half ice already. 

“Cato!”

He twirled the amabn rifle in his hands and stabbed the pronged tip into the circular mouth of a large spider, the arcs of blue electricity sparking through it and causing it to falter. 

Someone grabbed his hand and started pulling him back towards the Crest. He looked up in alarm and found Din’s hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. His stomach twisted as fear seized his chest, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead he just ran beside Din and slipped into the ship through the tear that had been rend in the side. 

“The cockpit! We can seal ourselves in up there!” Cato shouted, ushering the frog-woman who was carrying the Child towards the ladder before turning around and electrocuting the spiders that were getting past Din. 

“Cato! Go!” Din shouted before ducking back out of the ship. 

The flow of spiders halted for a moment and Cato could hear the scuffle outside. Conflicted, he looked from the ladder up to the cockpit to where Din was outside. 

Making up his mind, he stepped towards the exterior of the ship, loading a new charge into the amban rifle as he did. 

Before he could actually make it to the hole in the ship, Din stumbled back through, a wave of spiders following. He ran for the ladder and upon seeing Cato still there frantically gestured for him to go, shouting something unintelligible at him. 

Cato turned quickly and scrambled up the ladder, the adrenaline now giving him some semblance of agility in his frozen state. He ran into the cockpit and slid into the pilot’s seat, praying to some faceless entity that he could understand the controls again. 

Behind him, he could hear the doors trying to slide shut, the scuttles and screeches of the spiders, and the charges from Din’s blaster going off. Cato spared a glance over his shoulder, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“Torch them!” He shouted, hands flying over the controls of the _Crest_ and trying to work around the damage. 

The screams of spiders dying in fire came from behind him and the temporarily comforting sound of the doors sliding shut followed. 

Cato pulled on a lever, starting up the turbine engines as shadowy shapes moved over the frosted view port. “This won’t be smooth,” He warned as the ship started to rise, breaking through the ice and snow that had settled around it. 

The Child clambered into Cato’s lap and out of the corner of his eye he could see the frog woman buckling herself into the seat. Din stood right behind Cato, gripping the back of the seat with one hand, the other braced on the control board. 

After a few dreadful seconds, the resistance gave way and the _Crest_ was free of the ice. Cato started piloting the ship upwards, just trying to get out of this icy, spider filled chasm. 

A shadow passed overhead and Cato barely had time to wonder what the hell it could be before the ship lurched and crashed back to the ground again, Cato just barely managing to keep his head from smashing into the controls. 

The _Crest_ creaked and groaned as whatever had landed on them moved across the ship. Then a horrible shriek echoed through the chasm. Cato winced and tried looking around to see what was making the noise. 

Glass rained down on Cato suddenly and he barely had time to process the huge, grey-blue spike that had punctured the viewport as he flinched away, holding the Child close and shielding him. A second one pierced through the viewport on Cato’s right this time, getting a similar reaction. 

Cato watched with growing dread as the shadow of what he guessed was a massive spider moved over the viewport. 

“What the fuck did you guys do?” he murmured, barely audible. 

The spider moved its giant face close to the viewport, staring through the frosted glass with pitch black eyes that looked and moved unnaturally. Or at least not in any way that Cato wanted to ever think about again. It reared back suddenly, opening a round, toothy maw and attached itself to the viewport, giving a disturbing view of the rows and rows of teeth that scraped against the glass. 

Cato watched in wide-eyed horror, unable to look away as it dragged its maw across the viewport, creating a screeching sound. 

Then it fell back suddenly as familiar beams of red light crashed into its side, the great monstrosity falling sideways off the viewport. 

Cato stood up out of the chair, hastily setting the Child down and running towards the right side of the view port to try to see who had helped them. 

Through the frosted glass, Cato was able to just barely make out the form of two x-wings. He turned around quickly to find Din at the door to the cockpit. 

“It’s the New Republic,” Cato said quickly, halting Din’s actions. “They’ll ask questions. You can’t tell them about me. They’ll—,” he broke off. “Don’t tell them,” he finished quietly. 

Din gave a curt nod and then was through the door. 

A couple seconds passed and Cato huffed, following through into the cargo bay. He ducked through the webs that now decorated the interior, watching as Din stepped out of the ship up ahead. Cato followed, ducking into the shadows beside the torn hole they had been using as an entrance and exit. A few more seconds passed and then the blasters stopped firing. Cato tried to see what was happening, but the lights aimed at the ship made it impossible for him to make anything about the x-wings out. He couldn’t even see the ships from this angle. 

“We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest,” A familiar voice from earlier said—Cato was pretty sure his name was Carson. “You have an arrest warrant for the abduction of prisoner X-six-nine-eleven,” Cato tensed, wondering if they were going to arrest Din. If that happened he would have to show himself. He hoped that he could hold enough sway to get the charges waived or at least withheld until they could deal with them properly. “However,” Cato bit his tongue, not wanting to believe that this was actually going to go well. “Onboard security records show that you apprehended three priority culprits from the Wanted Register. Security records also show that you put your own life in harm's way to try to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps.” a beat of silence followed and Cato felt his anxiety rising again. “The records also show that a man by the name of Cato Dazhyn was with you on Bothan-five. Is this true?” 

Cato could feel his heart rate spiking and he forced himself to take slow, controlled breaths so as not to lose focus. 

“Am I under arrest?” Din asked, sounding tired. 

“What do you know about Cato Dazhyn?” 

“That name doesn’t mean anything to me.” Din lied easily. 

“Cato Dazhyn was a commander in the Rebellion and has been missing for six years and presumed dead. If you weren’t with Cato Dazhyn, then what was their name and where are they? We have some questions.” 

A brief silence passed. “He told me his name was Armel Runn, he didn’t tell me anything about himself besides that. And good luck finding him, last I checked he was dead. Blown up into a million pieces.” Din answered. Another silence passed and Cato was trying to figure out what was about to happen. “Are you going to arrest me?” Din asked again, equally tired as the first. 

“Technically we should,” Carson answered. “But these are trying times.” 

“What say I forgo the bounties on these three criminals and you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?” Din suggested. 

“What say you fix that transponder and we don’t vaporise that antique next time we patrol the Rim?” the pilot responded. 

The sound of the x-wings taking flight suddenly filled the chasm and the light shifted, prompting Cato to look out a little bit, squinting against the snow that was being blown up into the air. 

Then the light was gone as the two ships rose completely out of the chasm and took off, leaving them behind. 

Din sighed and turned around, walking back into the cargo bay. He stopped when he saw Cato and tilted his head. “What are you doing down here? I thought you were supposed to be hiding from them,” 

“I wanted to be here in case they decided to arrest you. I may have been able to convince them to let you go if I told them who I was,” Cato said, staring at a spot on the ground next to Din. 

Din was quiet for a moment and then hesitantly reached a hand out to brush his fingers along Cato’s cheek. Cato stood very still, desperately wanting to be close to Din but still so terrified after what had happened earlier. 

“Why are you hiding from them? You were clearly important to the Rebellion and if they’re still looking for you…” Din trailed off. “You mean something to the New Republic, Cato. Why hide from it?” He asked quietly. 

Cato shook his head. “The moment I tell anyone from the New Republic who I am they’ll take me to Chandrila. They’ll take me away from _you_. They’ll take me away from you and the kid and they’ll have questions I can’t answer and people I can’t face.” Cato felt tears sting his eyes. “I’m not a commander anymore. I’m not a Jedi anymore, I’m not—,” Cato faltered. “I’m not a hero anymore. I’m different now. And I might be sick and I might be fighting, but I’d rather be all those things and here, with you and the Child, than be living the life of a war hero without you. That’s not me anymore. _This_ is me. And you are my family.” 

Din was silent and then he leaned forward slightly to press his forehead against Cato’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not my best writing, but whatever. 
> 
> The episode 3 chapters get exciting for Cato so you have that to look forward to


	13. XII: Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it to Trask in one piece (barely) and start searching out the rumoured Mandalorians.

Cato sat with his back against one of the walls of the cockpit, the small leatherbound book Din had given him in his lap and a partially finished drawing on the open page. Cato wasn’t particularly good at drawing, he never had been, but his time on Kreios had given him the opportunity to at least try, and even if he wasn’t very good the children loved it when he drew them pictures. 

The book was full of little doodles that Cato had done in between adventures, scraps of cloth pressed into some of the pages and a couple flowers and leaves from the planets with foliage. He had all the flowers from Sorgan pressed in the first few pages, little drawings of flowers beside the pressings, and a drawing of the embroidered piece of cloth that the children of the village had made for the fake wedding, the actual piece of cloth tucked in the back of the book.   
There was a scrap of cloth from Davan’s uniform on the prison ship, his name written next to it in remembrance. There was a piece of Kuiil’s scarf that Din had given him after Cato had woken up, the ugnaught’s name written beside it. There was a page with Din’s mythosaur pendant scribbled on it and well as the mudhorn signet. A sketch of the Krayt Dragon filled two pages, one of the scales that Cato had managed to grab and clean was tacked onto the page as well. 

The rest of the pages were filled with half formed sentences and quickly done drawings of scenes from his dreams. The eight statues from the dream of the arena were listed and messily drawn out. The adar mask was drawn as close as he could remember with a little note about the mirror version of himself he had fought. The next couple pages were taken up by hasty sketches and notes about the dreams he had had about his family, the half memories and twisted versions of his life. The only one he didn’t dare put anything down about was the dream where he had killed Din, an irrational fear springing to life that if he acknowledged it in any way it would somehow come to pass. 

The pages he was working on now were centered around the dream with the Mandalorians. The terrace and the city, the two groups and their armour and weapons. He was currently drawing the two Mandalorians, the male and female, trying to replicate the patterns on their armour. He didn’t have anything to fill the colour in with—he was lucky enough he had found a random pencil laying around in the depths of the ship—so he did his best to shade the armour so the different colours with different shades of the dull grey pencil colour. 

Beside him, Din shifted slowly, trying not to disturb the sleeping Child on his lap. Over the course of the many hours they had been in the cockpit and moving ever so slowly towards Trask, Cato had finally given in to his want to be close to Din. He no longer had the will to keep himself away, besides, he felt fine. His head didn’t hurt, his vision wasn’t swimming and skipping, everything was fine. He was fine. 

Din tilted his head to look down at the drawing in Cato’s lap. “Who are they?” He asked quietly, voice rough from sleep. 

Cato shook his head. “I don’t know,” He answered, equally quiet so as not to wake the rest of their company. “It was just a dream I had while we were on Tatooine.” he explained. 

Din was quiet for a moment. “Do you think they’re real?” He asked hesitantly. 

In the past, Cato had explained briefly to Din that sometimes his dreams weren’t just dreams, but actual insight into real people and their lives, and on occasion pieces of what was yet to come. Din had never fully believed Cato, not necessarily thinking that Cato had been lying or crazy, but more so just that it was just such a strange concept. Cato however had noticed that since meeting the Child, Din had a slightly better understanding and acceptance of the peculiar powers Cato and the Child displayed. 

“I don’t know,” Cato answered truthfully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had any sort of vision-dream. And after what happened on Nevarro…” Cato trailed off, halting his drawing to look at his hands which had grey smudges on them from the hours of drawing. “I haven’t dared to try anything with the Force,” he finished. He sighed. “All I know is these dreams feel...strange. They _feel_ like the premonitions I had as a child but...the things they show me are impossible...mostly,” 

“What do they show you?” Din asked. 

Cato shook his head. “Impossible things, things that never happened, just…” Cato pursed his lips, unsure of what word he was looking for. He raked a hand through his hair and sighed, giving up on that train of thought. “If these Mandalorians are real then what do they have to do with me? And who are they?” He glanced up at Din, who was looking at the drawing. “Does the pattern on their armour mean anything to you?” he asked, gesturing at the messily done designs on the armour. 

Din was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No. I don’t recognise the patterns,” 

Cato sighed, feeling weary after everything that had happened. He closed the book, staring at it for a moment. Then he opened it back up and flipped to the back of the book and removed the strip of blue grey cloth from Sorgan. Then he shut the book again and tied it closed, setting it on the floor beside him. 

He ran his fingers over the roughly embroidered glyphs, a sense of nostalgia sweeping over him. 

“I wondered if you still had that,” Din said quietly. 

Cato nodded and looked up at Din. “Of course I do,” he said, with a sad smile. He looked back at his hands and suddenly came up with an idea. He pushed up his sleeve on his left arm and held the piece of cloth out to Din. “Can you tie it?” He asked, gesturing to bare wrist. 

Din took the cloth and nodded. Then, gingerly, he took Cato’s left hand—Cato shifting on the floor so he was comfortable—and wrapped the piece of cloth around Cato’s wrist a few times, tying the ends together. “Is that too loose?” He asked quietly. 

Cato moved his wrist and shook his head. “No, it’s good,” he answered. 

Silence stretched between them for long seconds, both with unsaid words whirling through their minds but unsure of how to say them. 

“Cato—,” Din broke off abruptly. 

“Yeah?” Cato asked. 

Din was silent for a few seconds. “You should rest. It’s still a long way to Trask, you should take advantage of it.” He said and Cato got the idea that that wasn’t what he had been going to say originally. 

But Cato didn’t push it. He just nodded silently in agreement, taking the blanket Din offered him and shifted until he found a comfortable spot laying down, using his fur mantle as a pillow. Din shifted by Cato’s head and there was a small gurgle as he gently lifted the Child from his lap and lay him in Cato’s waiting arms. The Child cooed sleepily and curled into Cato, immediately falling back asleep. 

Cato offered Din a small smile as he brushed his gloved fingers over Cato’s cheek. 

“ _Ni kar’taylir gar darasuum,_ ” Din whispered. 

“ _Jii bal ratiin_ ,” Cato murmured back before closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off to sleep. 

☀︎︎

When Cato woke up, it was to the familiar taste of dirt in his mouth only this time much more potent. He sputtered a little then blinked the sleep from his eyes and found the frog woman leaning over him curiously. Cato coughed, rolling to the side as he did, the dirt flavour seeming to stick to the inside of his mouth. Countless other flavours were noticeable now as well, not that Cato could name any of them. Some tasted so bitter that he had half a mind to stick his tongue onto the fabric of his coat or something just to see if it would dampen the flavour. Others were sickly sweet or spicy making his stomach lurch and his throat burn. But he managed to keep himself together, looking around the cockpit to reestablish his surroundings. 

The Child was sitting beside the frog lady, yawning as if he’d just woken up—which he probably had—Din was piloting, frantically hitting switches on the control board, and outside the viewport Cato could see a blue planet approaching. 

“Strap yourselves in! This will get a bit choppy,” Din warned. 

The frog lady helped Cato to his feet and then went back to her seat while Cato grabbed the Child and sat in the second seat, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen.   
The _Crest_ began to drop into the atmosphere, shaking and creaking in a way that did not have Cato at ease. 

“What are you _doing_?!” Cato asked as flames began to lick up the outsides of the ship and alarms started blaring. “Why are you trying to manually land the ship?!” 

“I need your help!” Din said, not bothering with an answer. Cato quickly stood, setting the Child on his seat before staggering up to the control board beside Din. Out of the viewport it was a haze of fire as the _Crest_ plummeted towards the surface of Trask. “This lever needs to stay back, got it?” Din asked, gesturing to one of the levers on the board. Cato nodded firmly and grabbed it, holding in its position. “Keep it steady. Here we go,” 

Cato braced himself as he kept the lever back, the ship's automatic controls fighting to push it forwards. Behind him, he could hear the frog woman croaking as she tried to keep steady and he could faintly hear the Child gurgling, though whether it was with fear or excitement, he had no idea. 

The clouds broke below them and Cato could see the port city they were trying to land in. 

“We’re too fast!” Cato warned, watching the rapidly approaching surface. 

“We’ll be fine!” Din answered. 

“Razor Crest, this is Trask flight control,” a voice suddenly said over the comm link. “Please reduce your speed to port protocol,” they requested. 

“I’m trying my best here,” Din answered and Cato could tell he was barely listening, more focused on getting them through this alive. 

“We’re not going to slow down in time!” Cato said, still fighting the _Crest_ to keep the lever back. 

“We’ll be fine!” Din repeated. “Engage reverse thrusters! Brace!” he said quickly, reaching across the control board to hit another switch. The ship lurched and Cato was pretty sure they lost a few pieces of the _Crest_ as their plummet continued. “Hold on!” 

“Razor Crest, do you copy? You have to reduce speed,” Flight Control said again, more urgently. 

“Almost there, almost there,” Din muttered, no longer listening. 

“Razor Crest, do you copy?” 

Below them, Cato could see the landing pad and he still did not like their odds. “We’re not gonna make it,” He decided. 

“We’ll be fine,” Din answered. 

“Razor Crest, you're coming in too fast, you have to re—,” Whatever Flight Control’s final message was, it was cut short as Cato reached up and shut the comm link off. If there was any chance of them making it through this they needed to be able to focus. 

“Cato, I need the emergency stabilizers,” Din said quickly, already doing a million other things. 

“This ship is too _old_ to have reasonable emergency stabilizers,” Cato grunted. 

“Cato!” Din warned. 

Keeping one hand on the lever and using all of his weight to keep it in place, Cato reached to his right and flipped the switches along the panel shutting off all power in the ship except for the reverse thrusters, the landing gear, and life support and controls. With the redirected power, the Crest’s shaking lessened and they came to an almost steady hover over the landing pad. 

“Here we go, nice and easy,” Din said absentmindedly.

Cato was just about to let out a sigh of relief when one of the turbine engines sputtered and sparked out, sending the ship careening to one side and into the water. 

☀︎︎

After the _Crest_ had been fished out of the water, everyone had been anxious to get out of the cockpit. Cato had tucked his book back into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled his mantle over his shoulders again before venturing down into the sea water filled cargo bay with everyone else. It seemed like they had done a good job of strapping everything in the bay down as it didn’t seem like anything was missing or out of place. But the water dripping through the ceiling into puddles on the floor were cause for concern, as well as the massive gaping holes in the exterior walls of the ship. 

Outside, Cato and Din stood side by side, looking up at the Crest together, the Child looking up at them curiously. 

“I told you we’d be fine,” Din said lightly. Cato looked at Din with a scowl on his face, though there was no malice behind it. Din looked away from the ship to look back at Cato. “What?” He asked, knowing full well why Cato was scowling at him. 

“We’re alive, I’ll give you that,” Cato said with a disbelieving shake of his head. “And I thought we had moved past the ‘emergency stabilizers’ thing,” He added after a moment of thought. Din scoffed in amusement and Cato rolled his eyes, unable to help the smile that spread across his face. “You know, one of these days you're going to step on a ship that’s _not_ a minimum of thirty years old and you’re going to have no idea how to fly it,” 

Din just shook his head and walked off to speak to the Mon Calamari that was waiting for them. 

Cato followed, trying to keep the frog woman in sights so she didn’t lose them. He followed her a little further onto the wharf, watching as she began to look around for her husband. Behind him, he could hear Din paying for the repairs on the ship and then walking up to join him, the Child floating in his pram by his side. 

“They’ll start repairs on the Crest,” Din informed as he fell into step with Cato. 

“Good. I never want a repeat of that landing again.” Cato quipped, watching as the frog woman disappeared around a corner. “Come on, I don’t want to lose her,” He mumbled, walking a little faster so they could catch up. 

When they rounded the corner, Cato was quite relieved to see that she was embracing a frog man who he could only assume was her husband. Cato and Din approached slowly as the couple sank to their knees in the middle of the wharf. Beside them the Child gurgled and both Din and Cato looked at him, seeing his dark eyes fixated on the case of eggs. 

“I know you’re hungry. We’ll get you something to eat,” Din told him. 

The Child’s ears drooped and Cato reached over to rub the tip of one of them gently. “Soon, little one. We’ll get food soon.” he promised. 

At that point, the frog woman’s husband stood and walked over to Cato and Din, taking time to grasp each of their forearms in both hands in turn, all while speaking to them in the same language as his wife—which Din and Cato still did not know. 

“You’re welcome,” Din said, voicing both his and Cato’s assumptions that they were being thanked. “I was told you could lead me to others of my kind,” The frog man nodded and turned around, pointing to a building a little further in. “The inn? Over there?” 

The frog man nodded and knelt beside his wife, the two lifting up the case of eggs and then started leading the way towards the inn.   
Cato winced, squeezing his eyes shut as a sudden spike of pain flashed through his head. He instinctively brought a hand up to his temple, squinting against the pain. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked almost immediately, noting Cato’s movement. 

Then as quickly as the pain had come, it vanished in a split second. In its wake, there was an odd seed of purpose planted in the back of Cato’s mind. He had something to do here.   
Cato nodded, rubbing his temple lightly in an attempt to ease the lingering ghost of the pain. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I probably just need water.” He said, hunching his shoulders against the sea air that suddenly seemed a bit colder. 

Din nodded, and the trio followed the frog couple towards the inn. 

Inside the inn, the frog couple pointed them towards a man who seemed to own the place. He waved politely and then the frog couple turned back to Cato and Din, saying their farewells. 

“Thank you, your help is greatly appreciated,” Cato said to the frog man, who responded in his own language and took Cato’s hand in both of his own. “I’m sorry that I don’t speak your language, if we meet again perhaps you’ll have time to try to teach me,” Cato suggested, feeling truly sheepish that he couldn’t thank this man in his own language or understand what he was saying. However, the frog man seemed thrilled at what Cato had said and nodded enthusiastically. 

Then, the couple waved goodbye one last time and walked out of the inn. 

Din, Cato, and the Child were then directed to a table, the Mon Calamari who had been pointed out to them coming over to offer them food. 

“What can I get you?” he asked. 

“Nothing for me,” Din declined. “But a bowl of chowder for my friend,” He said, looking at the Child. Cato pursed his lips in an attempt not to grin like an idiot at that and managed to miss Din’s pointed look at him. Only when Din nudged his foot with his own under the table did Cato suddenly realise that the Mon Calamari was looking at him expectantly. 

“Water. Just water,” Cato said quickly, not having any desire to eat right now but desperate to try to rid his mouth of the aftertaste of undiluted dirt medicine. 

The Mon Calamari nodded and then looked expectantly back at Din. “These seats are scarce, buddy. Everyone seated needs to eat,” He said. 

“I can buy something else,” Din said, barely giving the man any time to finish. He reached into a pouch on his belt and pushed forward the round, semi-translucent pucks that were common currency on Trask. “Information,” The man took the calamari flan and pocketed them. “Have you seen others that look like me?” Din asked. 

The man looked around the inn almost nervously and reached up to fill the Child’s chowder bowl. “Others with beskar have been through here,” he said lowly while the soup filled the bowl. When it was full he pushed the bowl closer to the Child who stared at the thick soup curiously. 

“Who can take me to them?” Din asked, leaning forward. 

“I know someone who might be able to help,” the man said, looking over into a corner where several Quarren sat around a table. He walked over towards the table of Quarren, first stopping to pour a glass of water. He spoke with the Quarren briefly, gesturing back to Cato and Din. 

A squealing from the other side of Din drew Cato’s attention and he saw the Child with a squid-like creature stuck to his face. Before Cato could do anything, Din poked it with the tip of the knife he kept in his boot, causing it to slide off the Child’s face and back into the soup. “Don’t play with your food,” He said monotonously. 

The Child looked into the soup bowl and then looked over at Cato with wide eyes. Cato mimicked his expression and shrugged, having no clue what that thing was. The Child apparently found this hilarious and giggled at him. 

There was a clink on the table and Cato looked up, seeing that the Mon Calamari had brought him his glass of water. Cato thanked him quietly and sipped at the drink, watching intently as the Quarren man walked over to their table once the server had left. 

The Quarren man sat beside Cato, surveying the odd group. “Hm, so you seek others of your kind?” He asked, looking Din up and down. 

“Have you seen them?” Din questioned. 

“Aye,” The Quarren nodded. “I can bring you to them,” 

“Where?” 

“Only a few hours sail,” The Quarren said with a half shrug. “It’ll cost you though,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> Ni kar'taylir gar darasuum: I love you   
> Jii bal ratiin: Now and always


	14. XIII: Breathe

Cato and Din stood on the deck of an industrial supply ship, the scent of salt heavy on the air and the sharp, cool winds off the water making Cato wrap his arms around himself and shudder occasionally. The Child stood in his floating pod, watching the rather bleak and dismal ocean stretch on for as far as the eye could see ahead of them, the port slowly shrinking behind them. 

“You’re cold,” Din said from right beside Cato, still looking out over the water. 

Cato hunched his shoulders, drawing the heavy fur mantle closer to him. He didn’t deny it. He was cold, the air of the water was brisk and seemed heavy to Cato, the cool air started to cling to his hair and clothes in the form of tiny beads of perspiration. 

On top of the general unpleasantness of being cold and not quite dry, the little seed of purpose that had anchored itself in the back of Cato’s mind was persistently nagging him. It wasn’t tangible in any way, it wasn’t even really _there_ in any way. When Cato tried to focus on it, it was as if it had never existed. But it still bugged him. It was telling him to go back to the port, without words or signs, Cato simply knew it to be true. It felt like he had an invisible string anchored to him, not providing any resistance but pointing him back to where he was supposed to go. 

He vaguely recognised this feeling as something akin to the occasional Force-guided moments of intuition that he experienced when he was younger, but even that was rarely quite as noticeable as this—though even now it was barely there. 

The strongest memory he had of this feeling was when he was very young, too young to even really remember anything at all. All he knew was a small group of people had arrived at his home and spoke with his parents and eventually him. He couldn’t remember what they had said, in part because they hadn't spoken to him at all. Their thoughts had somehow appeared in his mind, allowing easy communication between them. They had wanted him to come with them, but this same feeling had told him _no_. 

Of course, years later Obi Wan had unintentionally shed some light on that experience, explaining that when Cato was very young—two or three—the Jedi Council had come to visit him and his parents, wishing to take Cato to the Temple to train him. Obviously that didn’t happen, as Cato remained blissfully unaware of his potential to become a Jedi until he was ten years old and suddenly had no choice. 

“—Cato?” 

He blinked and looked around, disoriented. This wasn’t where he’d been standing a millisecond before. He turned around and found Din approaching him, the Child floating beside him. Cato looked back at the ocean and confirmed that he was indeed on the port side now when he could have sworn he had been on the starboard. He grit his teeth, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes while his fingernails—still broken and torn in places, but thankfully not hurting as much anymore—pressed into his scalp. 

“Cato, what’s wrong?” Din asked quietly, coming to stand in front of Cato, his hand gently cupping Cato’s face before moving upwards to gently slip between Cato’s nails and scalp, relieving the pressure. 

Cato dropped his hands from his face and shoved them into his pockets. “Nothing, nothing,” he denied quickly, hardly having heard the question before jumping to answer with a lie. He paused as he registered that and shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. “Actually...there’s something…” He trailed off and huffed. “Were we just standing on the other side of the ship?” he asked, gesturing with his head over his shoulder to the opposite rail. 

Din nodded. “Yes, a minute or two ago, then you just walked over here.” he confirmed. 

The Child cooed, drawing Cato’s attention. He looked down at the kid, who stared back at him with dark eyes that somehow held unmistakeable worry. 

Cato offered the Child a weak smile and reached out to run his fingers along one of the Child’s ears, his hand trembling. He let his touch linger for a few moments then retracted his touch and looked back at Din. “Something’s happening to me. I...I don’t remember things suddenly and things just _skip_ ,” 

“Skip?” 

“Skip,” Cato confirmed with a nod. “It happened after the Crest crashed. At least, I assume we crashed. I remember falling through the clouds and then I blinked and I was in the cockpit and everything was frozen and I couldn’t find you guys.” he explained. “It happened just now, I don’t remember walking over here at all, and it might have happened while we were on Tatooine. I don’t know, I can’t remember anything very well anymore.” Cato grimaced as he tried to sort through his memories but found them disjointed and jumbled, something that was starting to become a common occurrence. 

Din nodded slowly and was silent for a moment before speaking. “You said you woke up in the cockpit and we weren’t there,” he said after a couple seconds. Cato nodded, remembering the scenario well. Din tilted his head quizzically. “You weren’t in the cockpit by yourself,” 

It felt like an icy knife had just been thrust into Cato’s chest, a chill spreading across his skin and fear freezing his insides. “What?” He breathed, voice barely there. 

“When we crashed you were knocked out, we all were. I woke up and got you and the frog woman up and we eventually moved down to the cargo bay.” This didn’t make any sense. Cato didn’t remember _any_ of that. He remembered waking up _alone_ in the cockpit. “We set up the temporary camp in the hold and you said you were going to check for spare rations. You got a couple yards away and then just collapsed. I went over to help you and you…” Din trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence. They both remembered vividly what had happened. 

“I don’t…” Cato shook his head, bewildered and frightened. “I remember waking up alone in the cockpit and coming down into the hold to find you. I was walking towards you when I noticed I was bleeding and I collapsed or something.” he raked both hands through his hair, tugging on his unruly curls in frustration. “ _Fuck_ , what the hell is wrong with me,” he hissed. 

Approaching footsteps forced a halt on the conversation, the Quarren captain they had met in the inn walking to stand nearby. “You ever see a mamacore eat?” he asked, looking out over the grey ocean. “Quite a sight,” He said. “The child might take an interest.” The Child cooed, tilting his head slightly at the captain. “You should take a look,” The captain suggested, walking towards the large grate that took up most of the floor of the deck. “Come on over here, get a good view. Let the kid see,” He urged. 

Din followed, the Child floating beside him. Cato shivered against the cold and followed after, coming to stand on the other side of Din a little ways from the edge of the grate. 

The grate drew back, leaving the surface of the large tank or cage unbarred. The captain had a net of live fish—all flopping against each other—hung over the water and then dropped in. The water began to bubble and roil as something large made its way towards the surface. 

“She must be hungry,” The captain chuckled. “We usually feed her in the early morning, but we missed that cause we were comin’ out of _port_ ,” 

The last word was emphasised with a solid _thunk_ of metal on metal as the captain batted the Child’s pod into the water. 

“No!” 

Cato felt arms start to close around him and he immediately surged forwards, tearing away the grip that was trying to trap him, the sailor only managing to keep a hold on his jacket. Thoughtlessly, Cato dove towards the water, only able to focus on the Child sitting in the middle of the roiling water. 

The water hit him like a ton of bricks, forcing the air from his lungs immediately as he tried to gasp on instinct, salt water flooding his lungs. Involuntarily, Cato fought his way back to the surface, his lungs on fire with the pain. Sputtering and gasping, Cato broke the surface, hands closing around the grimy bars of the closed grate. Pain hit his knuckles as the Quarren sailors began to slash at his hands, trying to force him back into the water. 

“Cato—!” 

His world went quiet, only punctured by a low rumbling sound as he fell back under the water. He resurfaced a moment later and found Din nearby in a similar predicament. 

“Cato—,” Din coughed. “Cato,” He reached out, trying to grab Cato. Understanding what he was trying to do, Cato reached out as well, lunging to hopefully propel himself close enough. 

Sharp, stinging pain flared up in Cato’s arm and once again he was submerged in the icy water, inhaling more of the stinging saltwater. Memories that felt like a lifetime ago came rushing back as Cato’s lungs burned from the water. Sinking into darkness, a crushing weight on his chest, death creeping in as he drowned in the ponds of Sorgan. 

Adrenaline pushed Cato to fight upwards, his head once again breaking the surface. His arm stung painfully and he could see a bleeding gash across the top of his forearm where he had been hit with one of the fishing spears wielding by the sailors. 

Cato looked around wildly and saw Din break the surface nearby. The Child was still missing. Cato looked frantically around him for any sign of the kid, but the water was dark and unyielding. Taking a deep breath, Cato ducked under the water, pushing past the burn of salt in his throat and lungs and the cold fear of drowning. 

He cracked his eyes open a little, the salt immediately stinging them. Darkness loomed below him and the loud humming of the ship’s motors made the water seem to vibrate, making the pressure in his ears worse. The cold crept into his bones, growing more and more frigid with every second and his lungs were burning now with the need for air. He didn’t know how far down this went, he didn’t have any protection whatsoever against pressure or anything. But he had to keep going. He had to get the Child back. 

Something brushed against Cato’s fingertips, making him recoil instantly. And then there was a sickening feeling as something slithered around his torso. He struggled to free himself, but its grip tightened, constricting around his chest, his air leaving his lungs in a flurry of bubbles and muffled grunts. 

And unable to move, Cato felt himself being pulled deeper into the water by something cold and slimy. 

☀︎︎

A familiar style helmet, painted blue and grey peered at Din through the grate, the metal bars sliding back to free him from the watery prison. 

“Take my hand,” The Mandalorian urged, holding out a hand to Din which he gratefully took, allowing her to help hoist him out of the water and onto the deck of the ship where he coughed and tried to get the words stuck in his throat out. 

“There’s a creature,” He wheezed as the Mandalorian lifted him from the water. “It has the Child, and my friend—,” he grunted as he collapsed onto the deck of the ship. 

“On it,” A second Mandalorian said, immediately diving into the watery cage. 

Din was only half aware of his movements as he was helped to a sitting position by the Mandalorian with the bird-like design on her helmet. “The Child—,” He gasped, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears threatening to squeeze the air from his lungs. 

“She’s on it,” The Mandalorian assured. 

“My friend, he’s down there, I don’t—he’s injured—help him. Help them.” 

The Mandalorian who had saved Din rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother, we’ve got this,” she assured, moving to stand at the edge of the water with the third Mandalorian. 

The water was roiling again, foam and froth forming at the surface as low screeches could be heard. Din tried to stand, to go over and look, but found that his muscles wouldn’t obey his command. All he could do was sit and heave in breaths of air. 

The water surface suddenly erupted and the second Mandalorian shot into the air, a familiar silver pod clutched in her arms. But no Cato. 

“Woves,” The first Mandalorian said, nodding to the water. 

With a curt nod, the third Mandalorian dove into the water, disappearing beneath the dark surface. 

The Mandalorian with the Child landed on the deck, immediately bringing the pod to Din and ripping off one of the doors. Din barely heard her gentle words to the Child as she scooped him up and handed him to Din who immediately held him close to his chest, his heart feeling like it was about to give out.

The Child stared up at Din, seeming a little shaken but okay. He was alive. He was okay. Din could have cried from relief in that moment, in fact he almost did. But the looming thought of Cato’s absence was still heavy on his mind. 

He looked around the deck of the ship, spotting Cato’s jacket and fur mantle crumpled on the ground a little ways away. 

Noticing his gaze, the lead Mandalorian picked the jacket and mantle up, bringing it to Din wordlessly. Din took it, and wrapped the Child in the jacket and mantle, unsure of what to do. 

“We’ll get your friend,” The first Mandalorian promised. 

Din didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. 

The surface of the water suddenly exploded again, immediately drawing everyone's attention. The third Mandalorian—Woves—landed on the deck of the ship, a soaking wet Cato in his arms. 

“Cato,” Din rasped, the Child letting out a simultaneous coo of recognition. 

Woves walked a couple steps closer and lay Cato on the deck in front of Din, water pooling around his unconscious form and a dark blood stain growing on his right sleeve. 

“Is he—?” Din asked, barely a whisper. Cato suddenly convulsed on the ground, rolling onto his side and hacking up seawater. “Cato!” Din dropped to his knees beside Cato, the Child still cradled in one arm while his free hand was quick to try to sooth Cato’s coughing and shaking. 

After a few seconds, Cato fell onto his back, staring up at Din with hazy eyes, red from the salt water. He opened his mouth, croaking something unintelligible. 

“Shh, it’s okay, _cyare_ ,” Din murmured absentmindedly, brushing the wet clumps of hair out of Cato’s face. “We’re here, you’re here, we’re all safe.” he assured as Cato suddenly seemed to seize up with panic. “ _Ni ganar gar, gar morut’yc,_ ” he murmured, rubbing comforting lines on Cato’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “ _Ni ganar bintar be gar_ ,” 

_I got you, you're safe. I’ve got both of you._

Several seconds passed like this, Din holding the Child close and doing his best to comfort him and Cato, the latter of whom was still shaking and staring hazily into the sky, the ghosts of words sometimes escaping his lips. He eventually managed to help Cato sit up and the three just sat there for a moment, all resting in each other’s embrace in varying stages of shock and relief. 

All the while, the three Mandalorians that had saved them stood side by side, a close by respectable distance away, allowing the trio time to breathe. 

_Time to breathe, time to breathe._ Din repeated to himself in his head. _Breathe, breathe, breathe._


	15. XIV: The Heiress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din is recruited for a mission and Cato stares into the face of one of his childhood stories.

Every breath made Cato’s chest burn, the air feeling like sandpaper across a raw wound. To compensate, Cato’s breaths were short and he often held his breath for short intervals to minimise the horrible pain and to keep him from completely breaking down. He could see his occasional breath fogging up the beskar of Din’s pauldron and he could hear Din’s shaky breaths through the helmet given his proximity. 

The Child, who was cradled between them in Din’s left arm, carefully clambered up and out of Din’s hold and wrapped his small arms around Cato’s neck. Cato shifted to hold the Child with one arm and a moment later felt the kid put his face into the crook of Cato’s neck and place a tiny hand on his upper chest, a small warmth settling into Cato’s skin. The pain in his chest faded a little bit and he let out a breath with a huff as he realised it. It still hurt, but it wasn’t enough to make him wince anymore. 

“Thank you,” Cato murmured, so quietly he wasn’t even sure he could hear his own words. 

Din shifted back a little bit and held Cato’s face in his hands to look him over. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. 

Cato nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be okay,” he said quietly. Then he looked over at the three Mandalorians who were watching them and instinctively he held the Child a little closer. 

“Thank you,” Din said and Cato looked over to see him addressing the Mandalorians. “I’ve been searching for more of our kind,” he explained. 

“Well, lucky we found you first,” the woman in the center said. 

“I’ve been quested to deliver this child, I was hoping that—,” 

Din’s words broke off as the three Mandalorians reached up and with a soft _hiss_ , removed their helmets. 

Cato frowned slightly and Din got to his feet, taking a couple steps to stand right in front of the woman that Cato guessed was the leader. She didn’t seem particularly concerned about them, her expression calm though guarded. 

“Where did you get that armour?” Din questioned, and fearing that a fight could break out, Cato got to his feet, wishing he had something to lean on. 

The red haired woman in the lead narrowed her eyes at Din and Cato caught the glance the two other Mandalorians shared with each other. “This armour has been in my family for three generations,” she said, almost taken aback by Din’s question. 

“You do not cover your face. You are not Mandalorian.” 

The three strangers' faces suddenly hardened and Cato realised where this was going. Through his whole childhood Cato had never come across the rule that stated that a Mandalorian could never show their face and when he had met Din he had assumed that it was a rule that had evolved with the expansion of the Empire as a tactic of secrecy. But now he was realising that based on these three Mandalorian’s reactions there was a sect involved in this story. 

This was confirmed as the man looked Din over before saying, “He’s one of them,” to the red haired woman.

The woman glanced over at him. “ _Dank farrik_ ,” she cursed quietly. 

“One of what?” Din asked coldly. 

The woman looked at Din for a moment then took a couple steps forward. “I am Bo-Katan, of clan Kryze,” she said. 

Cato felt like he had just been punched in the chest. _This_ was Bo-Katan Kryze. 

“I was born on Mandalore and fought in the Purge. I am the last of my line.” Bo-Katan continued. “And you are a Child of the Watch,” 

A thousand emotions seemed to crash over Cato at that moment, disbelief, denial, confusion, and anger all roared to life for a brief moment. Surely she meant Death Watch, what else could she have meant? But Din wasn’t part of Death Watch. He couldn’t be. It felt impossible. 

“The Watch?” Din questioned skeptically. 

“Children of the Watch are a cult of religious zealots that broke away from Mandalorian society. Their goal was to re-establish the ancient Way.” Bo-Katan explained shortly. 

Din was silent for a moment. “There is only one way. The Way of the Mandalore.” he said, his voice hard. Then he turned away from Bo-Katan and back to Cato and the Child, leaving them away from the three Mandalorians. 

☀︎︎

Cato walked beside Din through the port, the streets dark and only lit by the occasional streetlamp and the pale moon in the sky. His jacket and mantle were draped over his shoulders, providing some warmth and his clothes were drying slowly, though he was still chilled to the bone. He could feel the effects of the day's dose of medicine starting to fade as the hours of being awake began to add up. None of the symptoms were bad yet, but he could feel himself occasionally slipping into the familiar hazy state of mind. On top of that, his chest still hurt, every breath bringing along a bushel of pain, and the little intuitional compass in the back of his head was going wild right now, tugging at his consciousness every few minutes as if to steer him away. 

However, he ignored it, making sure to stay only a few steps from Din and the Child at any given time. 

The storage yard was dimly lit and the mountains of crates and boxes made a tangled web of shadows that seemed to judge with silent hatred as they moved through. 

“Hey!” a deep voice from up ahead shouted, immediately drawing Cato’s attention. A flicker of movement up ahead caught Cato’s eye and he watched as a large Quarren man holding something in his left hand stepped into the light. “You…” He said, walking closer to Cato and Din, others emerging from the shadows behind him. “You killed my brother,” 

“Let us pass,” Din said evenly. 

The man chuckled. “I don’t think you understand,” he said slowly. Cato saw at least two Qaurren positioned behind crates with blasters set up, ready to shoot them at any moment. “You killed my brother,” he growled. “And now I’m going to kill your _pets_ ,”

A familiar roar overhead drew everyone’s attention upwards, three familiar silhouettes descending from the sky and landing around Cato and Din. Bo-Katan landed right beside Cato, making him flinch a little in surprise. 

“He didn’t kill your brother,” she said. “ _I_ did,” and in a flurry of movement and blaster fire, the men who had surrounded them lay dead on the ground. The three Mandalorians holstered their weapons and Bo-Katan turned to Din. “Can we at least buy you a drink?” She asked. 

☀︎︎

Cato and Din sat at a secluded table in the corner of a nearby cantina, the three Mandalorians with them. Cato could feel himself starting to slip more frequently into the hazy state between when the dosage of medicine that kept him on his feet began to run thin and he collapsed into some coma-like state. He tried to keep himself grounded by tracing words onto the Child’s head with the pad of his finger. The Child didn’t seem to mind, he seemed perfectly content to sit on Cato lap and watch everything happening, which at the moment wasn’t much of anything. 

Bo-Katan and her companions had all removed their helmets and fully introduced themselves—the woman who had saved the Child was named Koska Reeves, and the man that had saved Cato was Axe Woves—but silence had since fallen over the table as the two groups regarded each other curiously, if not apprehensively. 

After a long stretch of silence and sizing Din up, Bo-Katan turned her attention to Cato, looking him over closely for seemingly the first time. 

“You are not Mandalorian,” she stated simply. It wasn’t judgemental or distrusting, but there was a note of curiosity to it. 

Cato swallowed hard, choking down any reservations he had about what he was about to do. “Not by practice,” He agreed. “But I am by blood,” 

Bo-Katan’s eyebrows rose up and everyone’s attention turned to him, including Din’s.   
Cato felt like melting under the collective of intense stares, but he steeled himself, clenching his free hand into a fist. He moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue, finding that his mouth suddenly felt very dry. “My name is Cato Dazhyn,” he said slowly. “I was raised on Alderaan, but I was born in Sundari on Mandalore, just like my mother was before me, and her parents before her, and so on. I am the last living descendant of Clan Byrd,” 

Bo-Katan tilted her head slightly, staring at Cato all the more intently now. “Interesting. You are the son of Vega Byrd, correct?” She asked. Cato nodded. “I knew your mother, she was a powerful Mandalorian and a friend, as were her sisters. I was dispirited when I learned she had left Mandalore and our way of life.”

“She never left it behind,” Cato corrected automatically.

Bo-Katan tilted her head in acknowledgement. Then she searched Cato’s face and the ghost of a sad smile appeared on her lips. “I was sorry to hear of her passing,” she inclined her head in Cato direction slightly. “ _Mhi partayli kaysh darasuum,_ ” she said. 

Cato’s throat tightened as a familiar grief threatened to spill out of him, but he pushed it back. “ _Mhi partayli kaysh darasuum_ ,” he echoed, voice hollow. 

_We remember her, so she is eternal._

A few long seconds of silence fell to the people seated at the table before Cato spoke up again, addressing Bo-Katan once more. 

“Why are you here?” He asked, hoping he didn’t come off as rude. 

“Trask is a black market port. They're staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet.” Bo-Katan looked at Koska and Axe. “We’re seizing those weapons and using them to retake our homeworld. Once we’ve done that, we’ll seat a new Mand’alor on the throne,” 

“That planet is cursed, anyone who goes there dies,” Din interjected. Cato glanced at him with curiosity. Din had never struck him as superstitious before. “Once the Empire knew they couldn’t control it they made sure no one else could either,” 

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Bo-Katan warned. “Our enemies want to separate us, but Mandalorians are stronger together.” she said, looking at Din and even Cato. 

“That's not part of my plan.” Din said, barely even pausing. Cato looked down at the Child in his lap, hiding the small smile that twitched at his lips. “I’ve been quested with returning this child to the Jedi,” 

Bo-Katan looked down at the Child and then back at Din. “What do you know of the Jedi?” She asked. 

“Nothing,” 

She looked at Cato. “Cato carries the traditional weapon of a Jedi and I remember when the Jedi Council came to take him away,” there was a grimace on her face, reminding Cato of the age old rivalry between the Jedi and Mandalorians. Taking children from their families and being taught to renounce attachment—including family bonds—did not sit well with Mandalorians, and was one of the reasons Cato was permitted to stay with his family. “I’d say you are sitting next to a Jedi,” She finished, green eyes searching Cato’s face, as if looking for any sign that he valued the detached position that the Jedi did over the Mandalorian teachings he had been raised with as a child. 

“I am not a Jedi,” Cato corrected. “And I cannot train this child,” Bo-Katan tilted her head, asking a silent question. “I’m—,” _Dying_. He swallowed the word, not daring to speak it outloud. “—Sick,” he finished feebly. “We need to find a Jedi who can help him, and he—,” Cato gestured at Din. “Was hoping you'd help him by Creed.” Bo-Katan looked at Din and then to her companions. “And as Vega Byrd’s son, so was I,” Cato added. 

The three Mandalorians exchanged glances. “I can lead you to one of their kind,” Bo-Katan said after a moment. “But first we need your help on our mission,” she was looking right at Din, making it clear that Cato was secondary in this deal, this was about _him_. 

“Mission?” Din question. 

Bo-Katan just smiled. 

☀︎︎

The flat sound of Din knocking on the metal door was loud in the quiet night, making Cato wince and squeeze his eyes shut. His head was filled with fog, thoughts distant and indistinct. He shivered against the night air and pulled his jacket closer around him, never having fully recovered from the chill of the water. 

Din, Cato, and the Child had just temporarily parted from Bo-Katan, Axe, and Koska, Din saying that he needed to get Cato and the Child somewhere safe before he could help them on their mission. Not knowing where to go and not trusting an inn after the run-in earlier with the Quarren seeking revenge, they had gone to seek out the frog couple. 

The metal door slid open, revealing the couple sitting at a table. 

“Something’s come up,” Din said, thought to Cato his voice seemed distant and muffled. “Can Cato and the Child stay with you for a bit?” He asked. 

Cato’s vision slid out of focus, everything becoming fuzzy smudges of colours. He thought he may have heard one of the frog-people answer, but he couldn’t be sure. 

A hand on his back urged him forwards gently and he stumbled, vision coming back into focus. Digging his fingernails into his palms, Cato forced himself to focus and found Din leading him into the small home. 

“You are going to stay here, so I want you to be respectful and mind your manners,” Din said, speaking to the Child in his arms before handing him to the frog woman. “You know what I’m talking about,” he added. Then he turned to Cato, his hands cupping his face gently, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Try to get some rest,” Cato let out an amused breath, knowing full well that he didn’t have a choice. In an hour he would be asleep with no chance of waking up on his own. “I’m leaving the medicine here in case I get held up,” Cato heard the hidden words at the end. _Held up or killed_. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he murmured. 

Cato nodded woodenly, words failing him. Din pulled Cato closer, enveloping him into a hug that Cato never wanted to leave. 

Then he let go and turned back to the couple. “He’s sick, he’ll need to rest and once he falls asleep he won’t wake up unless given this,” He held out the vial with the familiar strange blue liquid. “In case I’m not back by mid morning,” He said, holding it out to the frog woman. “You know how to use it,” 

She nodded and took the vial.   
Din turned back to Cato and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Cato’s for a few seconds. “ _Ni ven yaimpar, ner cyare_ ,” he whispered. 

“ _Ni kar’taylir gar darsuum_ ,” Cato whispered back hoarsely. 

They stayed like that for a moment longer, then Din stepped back and thanked the couple before walking to the door. He turned around, making one last promise. “I’ll be back,” And then he left, walking back through the night towards Bo-Katan, Koska, and Axe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> Mhi partayli kaysh darasuum: we remember he so she is eternal  
> Ni ven yaimpar, ner cyare: I will return, my beloved  
> Ni kar’taylir gar darsuum: I love you
> 
> I WAITED SO LONG TO DROP THAT INFO ABOUT VEGA OH MY GOD
> 
> *Bo as if she wasn't sleeping with cato's aunt and basically an in-law*: You're Vega Byrd's son, right?


	16. XV: Past Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato comes face to face with a ghost from his past.

Cato sat in a corner of the home of the frog couple, leaning up against the wall and staring blankly ahead of him. The same faint tugging sensation at the back of his skull that he had felt when they first landed was back and growing harder to ignore. In addition, a knot of anxiety had settled in Cato’s stomach, a constant worry about Din and the mission he was embarking on with Bo-Katan.

As for the sickness, it had abated for the next six hours, Cato having nimbly snatched the medicine from the table and taken a second dosage a couple hours ago, not wanting to sleep while Din was away. Cato knew he should be feeling better. He shouldn’t be this cold and his head shouldn’t hurt this much. He hoped it was just stress. 

Yeah, just stress.

The Child slept nearby, bundled up in blankets near the frog couple who were looking after their young that were due to hatch at any moment. They looked like a happy family. Cato managed a weak smile at the thought, hoping the Child had a happy family waiting for him. The smile fell from his face as he processed that thought, that one day—if they succeeded—he would have to say goodbye to the Child. He dreaded that day, and part of him hoped it never came. 

The odd pulling sensation in his mind tugged at him again, urging him to follow it. 

This time, he stood, leaning on the wall for support, and stumbled towards the door. 

As he opened the door, the frog woman called out to him, saying something in her native tongue which he still did not understand, though it wasn’t hard to guess that she was telling him not to leave. 

“I have to go,” he tried to explain, turning to face them. “There’s something I have to do in this city. It’s important.” He stepped out the door and looked back at the Child who had woken up and was now watching him intensely, ears drooping. “I’ll be back. I promise.” Cato swore before turning and walking away from the home. 

Cato wove through streets and alleys as if he had lived on Trask all his life and were retracing paths he had walked a thousand times before. In truth, he had no idea where he was going, but he could feel where he needed to go as clearly as if he were following a string in a labyrinth. 

Early morning foot traffic was heavy, but Cato’s path seemed to lead him away from the busy thoroughfares and docks. Instead, he found himself in an industrial storage dock, huge crates the size of houses towering up around him.   
Slowly, he walked through the storage yard, his metaphorical string having ended. 

He moved cautiously, getting the feeling he was being watched and not wanting to have a repeat of what had happened earlier he did his best to track any movement or sound. He tried to spot anything out of the ordinary, but nothing caught his attention, it was just quiet. 

The sounds of a scuffle up ahead brought Cato to a halt, nearly holding his breath as he listened to the conflict. Muffled grunts and the dull sound of punches and kicks could be heard nearby. Cautiously, he took a step forward and began to creep closer to the source of the sounds. 

“Pick him up,” a female voice ordered. 

There was the sound of rustling and Cato flattened himself against one of the shipping crates, carefully peering around the corner to see what was happening. 

In a small open area right next to the water, four people were arranged. Two people held the arms of a third—a human man—keeping him on his knees. Facing the three, a woman stood tall, holding a glaive in one hand, a hood obscuring her face. 

“You’ve been sentenced to die for crimes against the galaxy,” the woman said, hefting her glaive. The man kneeling on the ground whimpered and blubbered, but the two figures holding him up shoved him roughly onto his stomach in front of the woman. “I hope you find justice,” the woman said coldly, raising her glaive in both hands, the blade pointed down, and thrusting it into the back of the man. 

There was a strangled gasp and Cato felt his stomach churn as the body twitched horribly a few times then fell still. 

A wave of nausea hit Cato as he watched the woman yank her glaive out of the man, blood running down the silver blade. He stumbled a bit, trying to find something to keep him upright, but the gravel crunched loudly under his boots and the dull thud of his hands fumbling at the shipping crate was enough to draw the attention of the two Quarren men and the human woman. 

Approaching footsteps were barely of concern to Cato as his vision warped and blurred, threatening to send him to the ground. 

Next thing he knew, he was pulled roughly out from behind the shipping crate, the two Qaurren men in front him. They both grabbed an arm, twisting them behind Cato’s back and walking him towards the woman. Cato grunted in pain and struggled weakly but quickly gave up. 

Once in front of her, he was shoved to the ground where he just barely managed to catch himself, scraping his palms on the gravel as he did. 

He glanced to his right, and saw the lifeless and beaten face of the man that had just been killed. Unable to stop it, Cato retched, heaving up the contents of his empty stomach onto the black gravel in front of him. His throat burned and tears stung his eyes as he continued to tremble and retch onto the ground. 

Hesitantly, he sat up, cradling his scraped hands. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before raising his eyes up to look at the cloaked woman in front of him. 

She had fair skin and her face was hard and cold, suggesting she had seen her fair share of violence. Her clothes spoke to the same conclusion, worn and dirty, but practical and well made. 

She curled her lip at Cato. “Who are you to spy on me?” She asked. 

Cato opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t find the words. “I—,” he broke off. “I–I...was just walking a-around, I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean any harm,” he stuttered. 

A hefty _thwack_ to the back of his skull from one of the Quarren sent him falling forwards again and his vision dancing with black spots. “Answer Lady Senaar.” They spat. “Who are you?” 

Cato blinked the spots out of his vision and picked himself up again. “I’m no—,” he broke off suddenly, catching their words. “ _Senaar_?” He looked up at the woman blearily. “That’s Mando’a,” he stated dumbly. He saw her tense and he quickly held his hands up to placate. “I’m not—I’m not trying to cause any—,” he cried out again as a second hit to the back of his skull caught him unawares, and sent him sprawling in the gravel, his head spinning. 

“Stop,” the woman ordered. Cato heard her shift and felt her toe his ribs, pushing him onto his back. As he stared hazily up at the sky, she crouched beside him, now close enough he could see her auburn hair hidden in the hood. “You speak Mando’a. That’s uncommon.” She noted. 

Cato wheezed, then propped himself up on his elbows, trying to sit up. “It is,” he agreed. “So when we use it, it means something.” He managed to sit up fully, groaning between his teeth as he did. He looked at the woman crouching beside him, her brown eyes alight with a fierce curiosity. “ _Senaar_ means bird. _Meg e bebic kar’tan bah gar_?” He asked. _What is its meaning to you?_

The woman tilted her head slightly, surveying Cato closely. “ _Ner b’buir aliit_ ,” she answered vaguely. _My mother’s family name._

Cato felt the blood drain from his face, his heart rate skyrocketing as her information registered. “Byrd,” he choked out. “You’re mother’s family name. Clan Byrd of Mandalore,” 

The woman’s brown eyes locked onto Cato’s and he saw fear and disbelief flash across them. Then they hardened and she stood up, anger set in her face. “Who the hell are you?” She growled. 

“I—,” Cato fumbled for the words, his heart hammering against his chest and his mind racing too quickly to form coherent thoughts. “I know you—,” he stuttered. “Your family—,” 

The woman took a few steps back with a scoff. “You don’t know me,” she snarled. Then she turned her back on Cato, starting to walk away. “My family is _dead_ ,” she said icily over her shoulder. 

_No no no no!_

Cato scrambled to his feet, trying to run after the woman, only to be stopped by the two Qaurren. “I do know you!” He protested, trying to push past the Quarren that held him. “Your mother was Vega Byrd of Mandalore and your father Alexon Dazhyn of Alderaan.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth she froze, her back still to him. 

“Your name is Adrestia Dazhyn, you were born in 22 BBY in Sundari and you were raised in Aldera on Alderaan. You used to scare the children you went to school with by putting bugs on their back, y-you’re favourite colour is—was—red and you—,” Cato broke off, desperation breaking his voice. “You—,” he swallowed dryly. “You were only six when your older brother left home, sneaking away in the middle of the night during an Imperial raid. He thought—,” his voice cracked. “He thought he’d never see you again. Never have the chance to explain...” 

She turned around finally and ever so carefully walked back to Cato, signalling the two Quarren to release him as she approached. They did as they were instructed and backed away towards the storage units to give them privacy.   
Cato could see unshed tears in her brown eyes as she searched his grimy face, looking over every inch of him. 

“Cato,” she said, voice barely a whisper. 

He nodded. “It’s me,” he agreed. 

Adrestia held a hand up to her mouth for a moment, then removed it, instead reaching it towards Cato’s face, the barest tremor in her hand. She hesitantly touched her fingertips to his cheek, barely touching him, as if he would shatter into a million pieces in front of her. 

Cato placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. 

Adrestia let out a disbelieving chuckle, tinged with tears. “Maker, I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “You’re _here_ ,” 

Cato nodded. “I’m here,” he agreed, smiling weakly. 

“How—?” 

Before Adrestia could finish her question she was cut off by a familiar voice from the maze of shipping units. 

“Cato?” 

The man in question quickly looked past his sister towards the shipping units and saw a familiar Mandalorian burst into the small open space. 

“Cato!” Din called, about to run towards Cato. 

He only made it a few steps before the two Quarren converged on him, tackling him and throwing them into a woefully imbalanced fight. 

“Wait—!” Cato tried to protest, but just as quickly as it had started, the fight was over and the two Quarren lay unconscious on the ground, Din approaching Adrestia and Cato with his blaster drawn. 

Adrestia readied her glaive and faced Din, positioning herself between him and Cato. 

“Who the hell are you?” She snarled fiercely, all tenderness she had displayed now gone like an extinguished flame. 

Din was silent for a moment, and Cato saw the slight movements of his head, tracking the dead body nearby and the scrapes on Cato’s face from when he had failed to break his fall. “What the hell did you do to him?” He asked lowly, an icy growl filled with barely contained rage. 

“Nothing compared to the suffering you’ll face,” Adrestia threatened. 

“Wait—!” Cato grabbed her arm pulling back and scrambled to insert himself between them before they could tear each other to pieces. “Stop, just stop,” he pleaded, holding his hands out to both of them. “There’s been a misunderstanding, please just wait,” he turned to Adrestia. “He’s a friend,” he told her. “He doesn’t mean any harm, he’s just looking out for me,”   
Adrestia searched Cato’s face and then lowered her glaive, though she kept it at the ready. 

“Cato, who is this?” Din asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice. 

Cato turned to face him. “This is Adrestia, she’s...she’s my sister,” 

☀︎︎

Adrestia and Cato sat side-by-side on a large shipping crate inside of a nearby warehouse, doing their best to catch up   
with each other on the years and years they had been apart. Din stood a little ways away, far enough to give the reunited siblings space and some privacy but close enough that he could keep an eye on Cato, ensuring his safety. 

“Stars, I can’t believe you’re here,” Adrestia murmured, a smile on her face. She sniffled a little and looked up towards the ceiling. “Maker, I tried to find you...I got _so_ close. _So, so_ close,” she laughed a little. 

Cato looked over at her bewildered. “You tried to find me?” He asked. 

Adrestia nodded, looking down. “Yeah. I never forgot about you, never gave up on thinking that maybe you’d come home one day,” She scoffed a little and shook her hair out of her face. “When I finally left home I’d decided that you wouldn’t come back home, but I could still find you.” she looked over at Cato, her smile returning. “You can guess how surprised I was when I eventually heard about the Rebellion commander, Cato Dazhyn who was one of the pilots responsible for helping destroy the first Death Star,” She elbowed him in the ribs lightly. “A Rebel commander? My soft-spoken older brother who was too afraid to punch our Mandalorian mother during training because he was afraid of hurting her? I couldn’t believe it,” She teased. 

Cato rolled his eyes, though he was unable to keep from smiling. The familiar well of grief was still there, trapped in his chest, on the thought of his parents, but right now, here with Adrestia, it didn’t hurt as much. 

“I tried to get to you. Tried to find the Rebel bases, tried to get people to take me there. But I found out pretty quickly that a lot of people got pretty suspicious of someone claiming to be the sister of a Commander in the Rebel Alliance and asking to be taken to him.” Adrestia snorted in amusement at her own story. “I switched tactics pretty quick, but by the time I was close enough to the Rebellion to start bartering my way up the chain of command to get to you—,” She broke off, looking ahead of her sullenly. 

There was a sharp pang in Cato’s chest as he realised what part of his story this was and guilt began to gnaw at him. 

His sister let out a huff. “The siege on Hoth had just happened and you were reported missing. Later you were proclaimed dead.” her words were heavy with sadness and hearing that tone in his sister’s voice made it feel like a knife was being twisted into his gut. “They had a memorial for you on Chandrila after the war ended. There’s a statue and everything. I—,” Cato watched as Adrestia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand gruffly. “I didn’t go. I...I left. Came to the Outer Rim and eventually found myself here,” She gestured around at the warehouse and the stacks and stacks of shipping crates. 

Cato looked around, taking in the sight of the dimly lit warehouse. “What do you even do here?” He asked. 

Adrestia chuckled, drawing his attention back to her. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, legally speaking, I run a distribution company. I arrange transport and occasionally buyers for merchandise from all over this parsec. And on occasion, beyond.” 

“And illegally?” Cato prompted, giving her a look. 

A smug smile stretched across her lips and her could tell she was trying to hold it back. “I run a network,” she answered vaguely. 

“A _network_?” Cato repeated, wondering what the hell she was doing. 

“I’m a procurer of information,” Adrestia elaborated. “I like to know what's going on so I make it my business to find information that people don’t want found. Secrets are a hard business to get started in, but they pay well,” she gave a nonchalant shrug. “But here I am, five years of hard work later and I run a network of information.” She smiled proudly. 

Cato shook his head in exasperation, smiling in disbelief. “My sister is a criminal,” he said, trying to feign disappointment. 

Adrestia laughed. “You sound so proud,” She answered sarcastically. Cato shook his head in amusement. “And it’s not like it was all for me,” She added, sounding a little more serious. “For six years I’ve been holding out hope that you were alive. One of the reasons I built this network was so I could keep looking for you. I’ve collected and dealt so many secrets regarding rumours of your survival or anyone who sounded remotely similar. I even started hunting Empire remnants hoping they could tell me you were alive. Like that man I killed earlier in the storage yard.” 

She looked over at Cato and he saw she was dead serious. He didn’t know how to respond, shock compelling him to just stare at her, wide eyed. She built all this...to find him? Even _after_ he had been pronounced dead? _And_ she had started hunting Empire followers in hopes of gaining information on him. 

Adrestia smiled at Cato’s expression. “So, what about you?” she asked, switching topics. “Started out training to become a Mandalorian, then switched to Jedi part way through, joined a Rebellion, died, and now I find you in a black market port travelling with a Mandalorian. To say I’m curious is an understatement,” 

Cato’s smile faded at her words, his twisted and largely unhappy story being something he didn’t want to think about too hard right now. His life had enough complications in it right now without thinking about the horrors of his past. 

A hand on his shoulder startled him, making him jump slightly. He looked over and saw Adrestia with her hand extended to him. Her lips were pursed and she gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t want to. I know how hard my travels were so I understand wanting to leave things in the past.” 

Letting out a huff of breath, Cato slumped forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “It's not that I don’t want to tell you, I want to tell you everything, I just...so much has happened and it feels like very little of it was good.” he said. Cato sighed, dropping his face into his hands. 

“Your Mandalorian friend, tell me about him,” Adrestia said after a moment. “How’d you meet? Surely that was exciting.” 

Cato lifted his face out of his hands and looked over at Din, who was leaning against a crate. Helmet angled up towards the ceiling of the warehouse. An involuntary smile spread across his face at the sight of the Mandalorian, the tension draining from his muscles as he relaxed. “We met under poor circumstances,” He said, trying his best to avoid thinking about his time on Kappa V. “About six years ago we were both prisoners on Kappa Five and made a deal to help each other and ourselves out,” Cato paused, clenching his jaw as old memories threatened to wash over him. “He...he saved me after...afterwards. I stayed with him for about a year, travelling around and helping with bounties when I could. Then he found me a place to live in this little village and up until recently that’s where I’ve been. He’d visit me between jobs and make sure I was okay. Then he ran into some problems with Empire remnants and I started travelling with him again to help with the kid and…” Cato trailed off, briefly wondering if mentioning the Child was a good idea. “And now we’re here,” he finished awkwardly. 

Several seconds passed in silence and he looked over at Adrestia to see her eyebrows drawn together in confusion as she looked at him. 

“So…” she said slowly. “What you're telling me is you were taken prisoner, saved by a Mandalorian bounty hunter who you proceeded to marry and are now raising a kid with?” 

Cato flushed with embarrassment and quickly dropped his face into his hands again to hide. “No,” He grumbled, voice muffled by his hands. “We’re not married,” he briefly thought back to Nevarro when Din had been dying, remembering that in what they had both thought to be his final words to Cato he had said that he would have married him. Cato quickly pushed that thought aside. It had probably just been a spur of the moment thing, afterall, they thought he was going to die. 

“Uh huh,” Adrestia said, clearly unconvinced. 

“Cato,” 

The two siblings quickly looked over at the Mandalorian, who was standing up straighter and a couple paces closer. 

“We should go. I don’t...I don’t want to be here too long,” Din said, a hesitancy to his voice. “Or…” he stopped. “You can stay. If you want. But the Child and I...we should leave. And…” he didn’t finish, making Cato wonder what he was going to say. 

Cato slid off the crate, wobbling slightly when his feet hit the ground as a moment of lightheadedness washed over him. It cleared quickly and he looked up at Adrestia, then to Din, and then back again. 

“I will walk with you two back to your child,” Adrestia said, sliding off the crate to stand beside Cato. She hefted her glaive and swung it over her back, looking expectantly to Cato. Then the three walked out of the warehouse, following Adrestia’s lead out of the storage yard. 

The trio arrived back at the home of the frog couple, Cato and Adrestia staying by the door while Din went to get the Child. The siblings both looked in at the sight of the Mandalorian lifting the Child and thanking the frog couple again. The couple seemed to assure Din that it had all been fine and waved to Cato who waved back sheepishly. 

Cato looked over at Adrestia, finding her watching the scene with a bemused expression. 

“Come with us?” Cato blurted out suddenly. 

Adrestia looked over at him, a little shocked. Then she smiled and shook her head. “I cannot,” Cato opened his mouth to protest, but she spoke before he could. “I cannot go with you for the same reasons I cannot ask you to stay. We both have lives, jobs, responsibilities, _people_ ,” she nodded at Din and the Child at the last one. “We have duties to attend to, neither one of us can drop those on good conscience.” 

Cato smiled sadly, knowing she was right. “I never gave up on you either you know,” He said. “Or mum and dad. I thought about coming back to you guys every day during my training. And even now...I heard you in my dreams a while ago.” he shook his head. “Maker, I felt so stupid for leaving you. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I tried to tell you in my dream that I loved you and that I hadn’t meant to leave,” He gave a choked laugh, blinking back tears. “You didn’t listen. You never did,” 

Adrestia let out a breath of amusement tinged with her own sadness. “Well, I’ll listen now,” She said. “I believe you.” she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing gently. “Just ‘cause we’re not right beside each other after this doesn't mean we’ve left each other,” 

“I’m never leaving you again,” Cato vowed. 

“Good,” Adrestia laughed, punching his shoulder playfully. 

Cato winced at the impact. _Stars, she was strong._

__Din appeared at the doorway, the Child in his arms._ _

__Upon seeing Cato, the Child immediately cooed and reached towards him, making Cato’s heart melt a little._ _

__“Hey, Kid,” He said, reaching out to let the Child grab his fingers. When the Child kept tugging Cato closer, Cato eventually just lifted the Child out of Din’s arms, carrying him as the three walked back towards the _Crest.__ _

__The three stood in front of the _Crest_ , staring up at it apprehensively. _ _

__“This is your ship?” Adrestia asked skeptically._ _

__Neither Din nor Cato answered, both taking in the sketchy repairs. Cato was pretty sure that it was being held together by a miracle and the moment they stepped onboard it would crumble into a heap of metal._ _

__The Mon Calamari who had repaired it came to stand beside Din, also looking up at it._ _

__“I gave you a thousand credits,” Din said. “This was the best you could do?”_ _

__The Mon Calamari didn’t answer, simply held out a datapad for Din to authorize the payment, which the Mandalorian did with a sigh._ _

__“What even did this damage?” Adrestia asked, still squinting at the ship._ _

__“Ice spiders,” Cato answered, mimicking her expression._ _

__Adrestia scoffed. “Well, now I’m real glad I’m not going with you,” She muttered sarcastically. Then she turned to face Cato and Din fully. “I’ll be here if you need anything. If you can’t find me at the storage yard just ask around for Senaar and they’ll point you towards me. You two—three—are welcome here anytime,” she said._ _

__She and Cato locked eyes and a moment of hesitation passed before the two wrapped each other’s arms around one another, pulling each other into a tight embrace. Cato didn’t want to let go, for fear that she would fade away and cease to exist, becoming simply another wisp of his subconscious._ _

__Adrestia pulled back, clapping a hand on Cato’s shoulder. “ _Ret mhi urcir tug’yc o’r te gebi vencuyot_ ,” she said. _ _

__“Soon,” Cato agreed, determined to stay in contact._ _

__She then turned to Din, two clasping hands in a firm handshake. “ _Vot entye_ ,” she thanked him. _ _

__Din nodded in acknowledgement and respect. Then he turned to Cato and the two started walking away from Adrestia towards the ship._ _

__“Take care of him or I’ll gut you and throw your body in the fucking quay!” Adrestia shouted after them, a note of amusement to her threat._ _

__Cato looked over his shoulder to glare at his sister one last time before climbing on board the ship and following Din through the obstacle course of string that seemed to be holding the ship together._ _

__In the cockpit it was a tangled mess of more string, cables, and what looked like old fishing nets._ _

__Din sighed and set the Child down on one of the chairs before taking the pilot’s seat and started trying to navigate through the mess of criss-crossing threads over the control board. “Mon Calamari,” he muttered. “Unbelievable,”_ _

__Cato scoffed in amusement and sat in the second seat behind the pilot’s, leaning back to look out the viewports above, thinking about how he had his sister back. His little sister, who was now taller than him and running her own crime business._ _

__The ship took off, shaking and rattling threateningly. Cato got the suspicion that this was not going to be a smooth ride in the slightest, though he hoped he was wrong. Din had told him that they were heading to find Ahsoka Tano—another familiar name from stories Cato had been told—on the planet Corvus, a long ride to spend being jostled around._ _

__Cato flinched in surprise as Din suddenly lurched slightly to one side, his right arm reaching behind him to close his hand around a strange tentacled creature that had been about to land on the Child. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian crushed it in his hand, the blubberly skin making a gross squelching sound. Cato made a face and looked away for a few seconds. When he looked back out of the corner of his eye it was just in time to see the final tentacle being slurped into the Child’s mouth.  
As the Crest left the atmosphere of Trask, the shaking lessened some, much to Cato’s relief. _ _

__Din turned around in the pilot’s seat, facing Cato for a moment after the autopilot was engaged. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You’ve seemed...out of breath,” He elaborated upon Cato’s confused expression._ _

__Now that Din had mentioned it, Cato realised he was right. His lungs still hurt from nearly drowning the day before, causing a faint burning sensation in his chest every time he inhaled and his breaths were shallow and quicker than normal.  
Cato pondered it for a moment but then nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. My chest hurts a little still from all the salt water, it’s probably just that,” _ _

__Din nodded, satisfied with the answer. “If it gets worse let me know and I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, then looked over at the Child who was watching the two contentedly. “We finally know where we’re taking you,” Din said, a genuine note of happiness in his voice that made Cato smile, albeit a bit sadly._ _

__It was possible that the time to say goodbye to the Child was approaching quickly._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> Meg e bebic kar’tan bah gar: What does it mean to you  
> Ner b'buir aliit: My mother's clan/family name  
> Ret mhi urcir tug’yc o’r te gebi vencuyot: May we meet again soon  
> Vot entye: Thank you 
> 
> Adrestia is so great. Also, for those of you who care, I picture her as Karen Gillan.


	17. XVI: Phantom Cold

“How are you?” Cato asked, crouching beside Din while he worked on some of the electrical panelling in the cockpit. 

Din looked over at him then went back to soldering the damaged wires where they had disconnected. “I’m fine,” he answered shortly. “Just need to repair these and then the landing sequence will work enough that we don’t have to manually land again,” 

Cato frowned slightly. “I meant about what Bo-Katan said,” he said quietly. 

Din stopped working but didn’t look up at Cato. “I’m fine,” He repeated. “She doesn’t know me,” Cato nodded, not wanting to push it. He understood not wanting to talk about things. “But she knew you,” this time Din did look at Cato. “You never told me your mother was a Mandalorian,” he didn’t sound upset, mostly just curious. 

“Yeah, it’s not something I usually talk about,” Cato said with a grimace. 

“That’s why you spoke Mando’a when I met you,” 

Cato nodded. “Yeah, but when I met you I hadn’t spoken it or practiced in well over ten years,” He said with a small chuckle that made him wince as his chest welled with pain again. “I’m grateful you agreed to help me relearn it,” he said after a moment when the pain had receded a little. “It’s strange to think that if the galaxy hadn’t fallen to pieces I’d be a Mandalorian right now, as would Adrestia,” he paused, thinking about it. “I wonder where we’d be…” 

Something clicked in the back of Cato’s mind, a memory surfacing. He jolted to his feet, eyes wide. _No, it couldn’t be_. He grabbed his jacket off the nearby seat, rifling through the pockets to grab the small leatherbound book. 

“Cato?” Din asked curiously. “Are you okay?” 

The book fell to the floor in Cato’s fervor. He dropped the jacket immediately, dropping to his knees to flip through the pages quickly, his heart racing. 

Staring up at him from the pages were the two sketches of the two Mandalorians from his dream. Cato stared at the messy pencil drawings until he couldn’t even see anything besides them. He tried to think back to the dream, to remember the Mandalorian with the black armour and what she sounded like. Did she sound like Adrestia? They had the same accent and he seemed to remember them sounding similar, but maybe that was just his subconscious jumping to conclusions. 

He shook his head, running his hands over his face. Then he looked down at the drawings again and it suddenly seemed like a preposterous theory. He let out a sigh and immediately regretted it as the pain flared up again, his hand jumping to press against his chest on instinct. 

“Cato,” Din reached out to rest his hand on Cato’s shoulder. “Is it getting worse again?” he asked, referring to the pain in Cato’s lungs. 

With a grimace, Cato nodded, letting the hand on his chest drop as the worst of the pain passed. “Yeah,” He mumbled. “Probably just irritation from the salt water. It should go away soon,” He hoped it would go away soon, but in truth he had no idea how likely that was. 

Din was silent for a moment and Cato got the idea that he was looking him over, searching for other signs of pain or injury. “How’s your arm?” He asked after a moment. “Does it still hurt?” 

Cato lifted his right arm, turning it around in a show that it didn’t bother him as much. “It’s fine. Can barely feel it,” he said with a shrug. After leaving Trask Din had helped Cato apply a bacta cream to it, abating the pain to almost nothing. Then they had wrapped it with a fresh length of gauze to help staunch the bleeding from the rather shallow gash. 

“Good,” Din nodded. He sighed and looked around the cockpit, taking in the subpar repairs that had been done. “We're going to have to make a stop to get proper repairs done. We can’t make it to Corvus in this condition,” he decided. “We’ll head to Nevarro, it’s not too far.” Cato nodded, excited at the prospect of seeing Cara again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Din asked after a moment. “You’re breathing still seems shallow,” 

Cato sighed a little, wincing as the pain flared up again. “Honestly? No, I’m not sure,” He said quietly. “I’m sick and no one can tell me what's wrong. We’re going to find Ahsoka Tano, who I’ve heard stories about growing up. And when we find her we’re going to have to say goodbye to the Child,” Cato locked his jaw, trying to keep the tidal wave of emotions at bay. “I just almost drowned—for the second time—and was saved by one of my mother's friends?” he shook his head. “I just got my sister back after years and years of thinking she was dead. I have you, the Child, Adrestia, and Cara—and Greef I guess. I finally have a _family_ again and yet my days are numbered. We’re trying to bring the Child to the Jedi, a group I _swore_ I would never return to, and now we’re actively trying to find them. I don’t want to—,” Cato broke off and took a deep breath—or as best he could without causing too much pain. “I like this family,” he said. “I’m already dying, I don’t want you to have to say goodbye to anyone else.” 

There was a stretch of silence for a few beats. Then, “What are you talking about?” Din asked, a familiar tightness in his voice that Cato recognised as fear. “What do you mean you're dying?” he pressed when Cato didn't answer immediately.

Cato shook his head a little. “We both know it’s true. We’ve talked about it, knew it was coming.” 

“When did we talk about it?” Din questioned, sounding genuinely confused. 

“On Tatooine,” Cato looked over at Din, wondering how he could have forgotten that. “That night with the Tusken Raiders and Cobb Vanth. Out on the ridge, we talked about it. Decided we would just keep going for as long as we— _I_ — could. We would put the Child first, do everything we could to help him,” 

Din stared at Cato for a few long seconds then shook his head. “Cato...that...that never happened.” He said slowly. “That night...after you fell asleep I stayed with you all night and you never woke up, just like normal.” 

Icy fear washed over Cato. He now had two instances of memories being fake, both of which felt as real as everything right now. _What if this was fake too?_ He squashed that thought quickly, not wanting to think about it. No, this was real. This _had_ to be real. Those two memories weren’t, so what else wasn’t? _What’s to say this whole thing isn’t real?_

Cato ran his hands through his hair, trying to slow his already quick breathing as it got shallower and faster as panic closed in. When his breathing didn’t slow, he held his breath. He could feel faint tremors racing through him as he tried to hold himself together. He couldn’t remember things, he remembered things that weren’t real, and he had tried to kill Din. What was happening to him? What was causing this? How long before he tried to kill one of his friends again? How long until he _succeeded_? 

“Cato,” Din grabbed him, turning his face to look into the dark visor of the helmet. “Cato, you need to breathe,” the Mandalorian said calmly. “You have to breathe,” he repeated. “It’ll be okay, we’ll figure this out. Remember what I promised you? Remember?” Cato could only stare through hazy vision at Din, his vision twisting and contorting as unconsciousness pulled at him. “I’ll find a way to fix this,” Din repeated the words from what seemed like so long ago. “I’ll find a way,” He promised. “I’m not letting you die,” He pulled Cato closer, hugging him close and Cato thought for a moment that maybe...maybe...maybe what? 

And darkness swallowed his mind, the endless shadow forming into a familiar plane of sand, with distant lights glittering on the horizon. 

☀︎︎

Cato woke up with a start, sitting up as adrenaline coursed through him and sweat ran across his skin. The darkness in front of him seemed to play the memories of his dream, the sandy expanse stretching into darkness with the star-planet lighting the sky, leading him towards the lights. Then the arena again, this time a Jedi who once again bore Cato’s face. Cato had killed him at the base of the fifth statue—the statue of Luke—with his lightsaber through his chest while the crowd cheered and screamed. 

“Cato?” 

He looked over at the call of his name and found a shadowy figure sitting up beside him. Din. 

It was only now that Cato began to fully take in his surroundings. The blankets bunched around his waist, the warmth from the man beside him, the lack of space forcing their close proximity. The quiet snores and coos of the Child, suspended in his little hammock over their feet. 

“Cato?” Din asked again, voice low and hoarse from sleep and unmodulated. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Cato said, after nodding and forgetting that Din couldn’t see him. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he murmured, noting his shallow breathing. “How long have I been asleep?” He asked. 

Din shifted beside him. “You passed out a couple hours ago.” he answered, a note of concern in his voice. 

“What was I doing when I passed out?” Cato asked, anxiety gipping him like a vice. 

Another silence. “We were talking, you told—you told me…” Din didn’t finish. “We were talking about a memory of...something that didn’t actually happen,” 

Cato released a sigh of relief, the action causing pain to flare up in his chest. He winced, but ultimately was too relieved to care. “Okay,” He murmured. “Okay, that happened. That’s what I remember,” 

“You should get some rest,” Din murmured. 

Cato furrowed his brow and looked towards Din before remembering he didn’t have his helmet on and even in the dark, didn’t want to risk anything. “How am I awake right now?” he asked, fumbling around in his pockets to find the old strip of cloth to tie around his eyes. 

Din sighed. “I panicked,” He admitted sheepishly. “After you passed out I freaked out and gave you more of the medicine.” He huffed. “You started sleeping normally after that and I realised that I should have just remained calm and thought everything through,” 

Cato tugged the strip of cloth out of his pocket and carefully wrapped it around his head and over his eyes, tying it carefully. “It’s okay,” He said after the cloth was secure. “I feel better after sleeping normally,” 

“Then let’s rest,” Din murmured. “The kid is still asleep and I don’t want to risk waking him,” 

Cato nodded in agreement and lay back down, tugging the blankets up with him. A moment later and he felt Din lay back beside him. Cato carefully reached out, letting his fingertips brush against Din’s chest in the darkness. He gently trailed his fingers upwards, feeling the worn material of his shirt and the warmth of his skin as his fingers ghosted over his jaw, slowly creating a rough image in his mind of where Din was. He began to slowly run his fingers through Din’s soft hair, occasionally stopping to ever so delicately trace along the form of the strands, trying to determine if it was curly or not. 

Din hummed contentedly, and then shifted slightly so that he could wrap his arms around Cato and pull him even closer. 

“I was never afraid of the water,” Cato murmured, still absently playing with Din’s hair. “Even after what happened with the AT-ST on Sorgan I never thought I was afraid. Until now,” the faint burning sensation in his chest remained even when he didn’t cough or laugh or sigh, bearable but still noticeable pain. “I’m afraid of a lot of things that I wasn’t afraid of when I was younger,” Cato twirled a lock of Din’s hair in his fingers. “But I’ve always been afraid of hurting those close to me. I don’t want to isolate myself, I don’t want to be away from you or the Child, I want to be with you as much as I can. But you have to promise me that if I do something like what happened when the Crest crashed that you’ll do what needs to be done. Like before, when I was travelling with you on hunts and I’d lose it.” Cato knew he didn’t need to explain, Din knew what he was talking about.

“ _Ni ven taylir gar morut’yc,_ ” Din answered and Cato knew it was the best he would get. Din wouldn’t promise what Cato was asking him to, at least not in the way Cato wanted. So this would have to be good enough.

_I will keep you safe._

Cato pressed his forehead against Din’s gently, doing his best in the dark. Din leaned into it a little but then quickly ducked his head to plant a kiss on Cato’s lips, missing slightly in the dark, though Cato was quick to correct it. 

“You should rest, we still have a lot of repairs to do before we reach Nevarro,” Din mumbled, barely pulling back from the kiss to speak. “I have a gift for you when we wake up,” he whispered quickly before pressing another kiss to Cato’s lips. “ _Nuhoy,_ ” 

“You need sleep too,” Cato mumbled back, already feeling himself start to drift off. 

“ _Nuhoy jahaala, ner ka’ta,_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough* Din's gift is a ring *cough* 
> 
> Mando'a translations:  
> Ni ven taylir gar morut’yc: I will keep you safe  
> Nuhoy: Sleep  
> Nuhoy jahaala, ner ka’ta: sleep well, my heart/my love 
> 
> Oh man, I'm sorry if this story is getting disjointed, I have a lot to keep track of and I'm trying fit everything properly without writing like seven chapters an episode. I'm trying to make the disjointed thing work, but I doubt I'm succeeding. Oh well, it's just for fun.


	18. XVII: Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two dad's don't know how to teach mechanics to a fifty year old toddler and are unconcerned.

“Okay,” Din muttered from the pilot’s seat. “Let’s try this again,” Cato heard the click of more switches being flipped and the Crest shuddered again, a metallic rattling sound coming from the walls. “Okay, did you...do you have the wire?” Din asked over his shoulder. 

Cato ran his fingers over a seam in the wall and popped the panel off, revealing a mess of sparking and loose wires. “Charming,” He murmured to himself. “Din, can you shut the power off over here?” he asked over his shoulder. 

In lieu of a response an alarm went off behind him, making him jump and instinctively looking around for enemy ships through the viewports. A half second later and he remembered that this alarm _wasn’t_ for incoming crafts, but was instead a warning that some of the wiring still wasn’t functional. 

“No. nothing.” Din sighed, the alarm falling silent. “You’re clear, Cato,” He said a moment later. “Hey—okay,” 

Cato looked away from the mess of tangled wires and started rifling through the box of tools beside him. He glanced up as Din crouched near another open panel nearby. 

“Okay, did you get the _wire_ out?” He asked. “The red wire?” Gurgles from inside the wall of the ship were the only response. “No, no, no. No, the _red_ one. Show me the red wire. The red one,” 

Cato snickered as he listened to the one sided conversation, nimbly untangling the wires in the panel he was working on. 

The Child cooed again, this time earning praise from Din. “Yes, good,” The Mandalorian congratulated. “Now, you’re going to plug that red wire where the blue wire goes in the board,” the was a moment of silence. “Put the _red_ wire where the _blue_ wire goes in the board, okay?” Din repeated. “But don’t let them touch!” he warned. 

Cato yelped and shook out his hand as one of the wires shocked him. “I thought you said you shut this wall off!” He hissed at Din, shooting the Mandalorian an accusatory look that held no spite. 

“I _did_ , it’s just a bit finicky right now,” Din answered, still focused on the Child. “You see where you took the blue one off?” he asked, continuing to direct the Child. 

Cato scoffed and feigned offence with a hand over his chest. “Din, my love, light of my life—,” 

“Cato, _ner kar’ta, nau be ner oyacykar_ ,” Din interrupted, mimicking Cato’s words and sarcastic tone. The Child grumbled something from inside the panelling, drawing Din’s attention back to him suddenly. “No!” Din said quickly. “Don’t...don’t put the blue one back, put the red one where the blue one was,” he tried to explain. “And the blue one where the red one was,” 

Cato shook his head in amusement and went back to detangling the wires, clipping the ones that were damaged beyond repair and taking note of where connections could be patched to save spare wire. It took a little bit of shuffling things around and muttering curses at the wires before they were all clear and Cato started grafting wires together and re-soldering the connections. 

A loud zapping sound came from within the wall, mingled with a surprised yelp, making Cato flinch away and wince as he gasped. “What—?” he started to ask, instinctually moving his hands away from the wires as the crackling of electricity continued for a moment. 

A cloud of white smoke was coming from the panel that the Child was in, slowly dissipating in the air as Din just stared into it. 

“Kid?” Cato asked, shuffling over on his knees to press his face next to Din’s and make sure the Child was okay. 

Din sighed and Cato huffed, trying to blow the smoke away. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked, sounding rather unconcerned. 

“Did he just electrocute himself?” Cato asked, squinting through the smoke to see the Child coughing and holding two wires. “You really thought he’d be able to rewire the circuit board?” Cato question, giving Din a skeptical side-eye. 

Din sighed again. “Well it was worth a shot,” he said, beckoning for the Child to come closer. “It’s not like you can just make them float into the right places anymore,” he stated, reaching in to lift the Child out of the panelling. 

Cato nodded. “Years of Jedi training spent mastering the ability to manipulate the Force, and ability that has become rare. A powerful tool it is, and I used it to fix wiring issues and make sticks float,” he said, trying to make his voice sound calm and smooth to give the impression that he was speaking great philosophies. 

Din snorted in amusement and held the Child aloft so he could confirm that he was uninjured. 

☀︎︎  
After working on more wiring and doing as many repairs as possible on the Crest, the trio took a much needed break, sitting in the cargo bay together and sharing a meal. 

Cato sipped at his bowl of broth, staring absently at the floor while thinking. This was one of those rare moments where he actually felt...kind of okay. Yes, his chest still burned whenever he took too deep of a breath, his breathing was still a little too shallow to be normal, and he was still absolutely terrified at what the future could hold for him, but right now that all felt a little lesser. Sitting here with Din and the Child, drinking soup and just relaxing in the _Crest_...it was nice. This was good. 

Briefly, Cato contemplated the gift Din had promised him before they fell asleep last time. When they had awoken next, Din hadn’t said anything about it, almost acting as if he’d never said it. Maybe he’d forgotten or maybe decided that it hadn’t been the right time. Cato didn’t dwell on it for long. 

The Child gurgled and took a sip from his bowl, staring right at Cato. Cato maintained eye contact and mirrored the Child, taking a sip of soup as well. Then he laughed at the ridiculousness and almost spit soup everywhere. 

A soft and familiar hiss to Cato’s right told him Din had partially lifted the helmet, so Cato focused all of his attention on the Child in front of him, reaching forward to dab a drop of broth that was clinging to Child’s nose. The Child scrunched his face up at Cato’s action, going slightly cross-eyed to try and maintain focus on Cato’s hand. Cato chuckled at the kid’s antics and rubbed the tip of the Child’s ears affectionately. 

Then Cato sat back and sent the once again fully helmeted Din a smile. 

It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence for Din to partially lift the helmet for meals while Cato was around. After the first few months spent together they realised that it wasn’t always practical for them to eat at separate times and while Cato often voluntarily left the room to give him privacy it wasn’t always an option. When Cato lived on Kreios it was a little more common as they grew more comfortable with each other, Cato always finding something else to occupy his vision so that they didn’t have to break the atmosphere by having Cato abruptly turn away or close his eyes. 

By this time in their adventures, Cato was a master at it, providing frequent opportunities where he was focused and looking at something else so Din didn’t have to feel bad about asking Cato to turn away. He had learned to pay attention to the sounds the helmet made when being lifted and lowered and always wait a couple seconds before refocusing on Din just in case. 

It was a routine at this point, one that they had fallen into many times while on Kreios and now here, on the _Crest_. 

“We should only be a couple hours out from Nevarro,” Din said. “How do you feel about seeing some old friends?” He asked the Child, who tilted his head to one side and cooed. 

☀︎︎ 

The black earth crunched beneath Cato’s boots as he jumped off the only partially lowered ramp, the fall not far at all but still enough to make him wince as he instinctively took a deep breath. 

“Looks like someone could use some repairs,” Greef Karga said goodnaturedly as he and Cara approached. 

Cato didn’t even have time to think of a retort before he was being enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from Cara. The shock trooper lifted him off the ground slightly as she hugged him and Cato was pretty sure she was fracturing his ribs. 

“Cara—,” He squeaked, trying to get her attention as the burning in his chest got worse. 

“You’re not dead!” She exclaimed boisterously. 

“ _Cara_ —!” Cato tried again, louder this time though still sounding strangled. 

This time she heard him and set him back on the ground and let him go. “Oh, shit,” She apologised quickly, though still smiling. 

Cato immediately doubled over, holding his ribs and holding his breath while the burning sensation subsided a little bit. 

“What did you do?” Din asked behind them, sounding a little concerned. “Cato?” He asked after a half beat of silence. 

“‘M good,” Cato wheezed, waving it off and then straightening back up again, one hand still on his ribs and face screwed up against the lingering pain. “Oh Maker, you’ve got to stop trying to break my ribs,” he groaned. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked, coming to stand beside Cato. 

“Yep, yep, all good,” he said, knowing he didn’t sound very convincing. 

“What's up with him?” Cara asked, giving Cato a scrutinising look. 

Din shook his head. “Long story,” he said simply, then turned to Greef and shook his hand. “How’s my credit around here?” he asked. 

Greef looked over at Cara. “I think something could be arranged. Isn’t that right, Marshal?” he asked. 

“Marshal?” Cato asked. Cara nodded proudly. “Congratulations,” He clapped a hand on her shoulder, doing his best to give a convincing smile that wasn’t blatantly saying ‘ _oh Maker, I’m in a lot of pain and I’m trying to hide it_ ’. 

However, Cara didn’t seem to see through it—or if she did, she didn’t mention it—instead stepping up to say hi to the Child and Din. “I’m sure we can work somethin’ out,” she said with a smile. 

“I’ll get my best people on it,” Greef promised before calling over a few mechanics to work on the _Razor Crest_. “And you!” He said, turning to look at the Child who gurgled at him. “Come here, little one,” he said, lifting the Child out of Din’s arms. “Have Mando and Cato been takin’ good care of you?” he asked, then looked up to glare good naturedly at Din. “Have you been takin’ good care of him?” 

The Child grumbled something and Greef’s face lit up. 

“Yeah? Yeah! He said ‘yeah’!” Greef chuckled, turning away and leading the group back into town. 

Cato smiled fondly after the Child and Greef, glancing over at Din who tilted his head slightly. Then, the three followed Greef back into the town which was looking far less rundown than it had in the past. 

“Looks like you two have been busy,” Din noted as they walked through the market which was busy and either filled with _really_ inconspicuous bounty hunters or just relatively ordinary people. 

“I myself have been steeped with clerical work, Marshal Dune here is to be thanked for clearin’ up the town,” Greef explained, giving Cara an appreciative nod. 

“Your ship’s not lookin’ too good,” Cara said, giving Din a raised eyebrow. 

“We had a run-in with the New Republic,” Din explained briefly. 

“They should leave the Outer Rim alone,” Greef said. “If the Empire couldn’t settle it, what makes them think they can?” he said with a small chuckle as they walked up to the common house that housed the Guild’s base of operations. 

Cato looked up at the building and then over towards the square where they had fought a legion of stormtroopers and nearly died. He narrowed his eyes at the statue that had been erected in the middle of the square, recognising the likeness of IG-11 that had been immortalized as a statue. 

“I’m surprised to see this place is still standing,” Din said from beside Cato, seeming to have similar thoughts pertaining to their return to this place. 

Cara followed Greef up the steps and turned, spreading her arms is a little grand gesture. “Wait till you see inside,” She said with a smile before spinning back around to step inside. 

Din glanced at Cato who shrugged and then the two stepped into the common house. 

Inside, Cato was at a loss for words. The room that had once always seemed so intimidating and dangerous to him was now brightly lit and filled with children sitting in rows at desks while a silver protocol droid stood at the front and was conducting some sort of lesson.

“A school?” Din asked. 

Cato looked towards the window behind the bar that had been shattered the last time they were here and saw it had been replaced with a cleaner pane of glass. 

“Things have changed a lot around here,” Cara said with a half shrug. 

“We’re gonna leave the little one here so we can talk business,” Greef said, motioning to the Child.

“Wait, wait,” Din took a step towards Greef. “Wherever I go, he goes,” 

“Mando, please. Where we’re going you don’t want to take a child. Trust me.” Greef said. 

Din stayed silent, and Cato could see the way he was following Greef’s steps as he went to set the Child down at one of the free desks. 

“He’ll be safe here, you have my word,” Cara promised. 

Cato watched as Greef set the Child down and immediately all the children started whispering to each other and shifting in their seats to watch him curiously. 

“Come on,” Greef said, leading them back out of the school building. 

“Wait,” Din said, stopping them once they were outside. He glanced over at Cato, who frowned slightly, wondering what Din was thinking. Then the Mandalorian looked away from Cato and back to Greef. “Is there a medical centre?” He asked. 

Greef seemed a little taken aback but nodded. “Of course. Are you hurt?” He asked, sounding a little concerned. 

“No, but—,” Din looked back over at Cato who gave a small nod, letting him know it was okay. “Cato is sick. I want him to get help while we’re here,” he said. 

Cara nodded. “Yeah, we can stop by the med centre on the way, Cato can speak to one of the doctors and then meet back up with us.” She said, and when Cato met her gaze he could see the hint of concern in her eyes. 

The med centre was housed in one of the larger buildings in the city, hewn out of stone and partially set back into the volcanic rock like many of the buildings here. They stepped into a waiting room of sorts, clean and neat with a couple people waiting nearby and a man behind a desk who looked up as they entered. 

“Ah, Magister Karga,” He said, standing as they approached. “Marshal Dune,” He inclined his head to Cara. “How may I help you?” 

“Is Doctor Vhar here?” Greef asked. 

The man nodded. “Yes, they’re updating some records. Would you like me to bring them?” He asked. 

“No, no,” Greef shook his head. “But I would like you to take my friend, Cato, to see them.” he said, urging Cato to step forward. “So please bring Cato to them and tell them to do whatever they can to help him.” He said. 

The man nodded quickly. “Of course,” he said. “Will you three be waiting here?” he asked. 

“No,” Cara said, cutting off Din who had barely gotten a syllable out. 

Cato looked at Din and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll meet you as soon as I can,” he promised. 

“We’ll see you soon,” Greef said, patting Cato’s shoulder as the man began to lead Cato further into the building. 

Cato was led to a back room where someone was hunched over a datapad. 

As they entered the room, the person jumped in surprise but quickly regained their composure, straightening out their coat. 

“Forgive me for interrupting, Doctor, but Greef Karga requested you see this patient at once,” the man said, gesturing to Cato. 

“Oh, of course, of course,” Doctor Vhar said, shutting the datapad off and standing up. “Thank you for bringing them to me, Azyn, I can take it from here,” they thanked the man who nodded in appreciation and then left. 

Doctor Vhar looked Cato up and down with their completely black eyes and gave a smile. “I’m Doctor Vhar,” They said, holding out a hand for Cato to shake, metal glinting off of three of their fingers as the flesh gave way to robotics. 

Cato shook their hand. “Cato,” He said simply, leaving off his surname. 

“Well, Cato,” Doctor Vhar sat down and gestured for Cato to take a seat in the spare chair. “Tell me, why are you here?” They asked. 

Oh, how to even begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> ner kar’ta, nau be ner oyacykar: my love, light of my life


	19. XVIII: The Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato meets back up with the group and they set about breaking into an Imperial base.

“Hey,” Cato knocked on the wall beside the open door, looking into the room. 

A mythrol sitting behind a desk looked up doing a double take as he looked at Cato. “Oh!” he said. “Are you here to see the Magistrate?” He asked. 

Cato nodded. “Yeah,” 

“Okay, just let me just let him know you’re here.” The mythrol nodded and stood, heading towards a door opposite the doorway Cato was standing in. “There’s a Mandalorian with him and trust me you do _not_ wanna—,” 

The doorway slid open suddenly, startling the mythrol and out walked Din, Cara, and Greef. 

At the sight of Din, Cato quickly crossed the small entry room to press his forehead to Din’s. 

The Mandalorian was a bit taken aback, but after a quick moment Cato felt him lean into the gesture, a comforting hand on Cato’s upper arm. 

The mythrol’s words died in his throat and Cato heard him murmur quietly to himself. “Ah, I see that you already know him,” 

Din pulled back after a couple seconds, his hand now resting against Cato’s neck. “How are you?” He asked, and Cato could tell even through the helmet that Din was looking him up and down for any injury or changes. “Did they help?” 

Cato sighed, relishing in the lack of burning pain in his chest. “They fixed the issue with my lungs. It’s not completely better yet, it will take some time. But so long as I avoid anymore drowning then it should be okay,” Cato said, leaving out the part where Vhar said that he should avoid _any_ strain on his respiratory system, including running. He would do his best, but he knew that he wouldn’t always have a choice. 

Din nodded and Cato got the sense he was relieved. “And the other part?” He asked. 

Cato pursed his lips. “They couldn’t find anything. They said the respiratory distress was the only thing they could find evidence of. Beyond that they said I was completely healthy. But—,” Cato dug around in the inside pockets of his jacket and pulled out one of the vials. “They gave me these in case of emergencies,” he said, shaking the little vial so the liquid sloshed around. 

“What is it?” Din asked, tilting his head. 

“Adrenaline. Theoretically I should be able to prolong the effects of the medicine for an hour—maybe more—with one of these.” Cato explained. He put it back in his pocket. “So,” He looked up at Greef and Cara. “Earlier you made it sound like there was a job to be done. What is it?” he asked. 

“Well, you caught us just in time,” Greef said. “We’re heading out to sweep out an old imperial base.” 

Cato nodded. “Tell me about it,” He requested. 

☀︎︎

The group of four sat in a speeder as the mythrol piloted them across the landscape towards the imperial base. 

“And the energy system?” Cato asked, listening as Greef explained everything he could and brought Cato up to speed on the mission. 

“The whole base is powered by a reactor,” the Magistrate explained. 

“We sneak in, overload the reactor, and get the hell outta there,” Cara said from the front. 

Cato nodded. “We won’t have a lot of time,” He warned. 

“Then let’s be fast,” Din said from beside him. “And keep the speeder running.” 

“There it is,” Greef said suddenly. “Right up there,” he pointed ahead, where one of the walls of the ravine supported a large base. “You see it?” he asked. 

“How close d’you want me to drop you off?” The mythrol asked nervously. 

“How ‘bout the front door?” Greef suggested coldly. 

The mythrol gave a fake nonchalant shrug. “That’s a little close for a civilian don’t you think?” he asked. 

“I’ve got two choices for you,” Greef said. “You take us in and I knock a hundred years off your debt,” 

“Or…?” The mythrol prompted. 

“Or I leave you out here in the lava flats to walk home with whatever’s left in your humidity vest,” 

Cato leaned closer to Din. “Who is this guy?” He asked under his breath, nodding at the mythrol. 

Din tilted his head slightly, seeming to look down at Cato a little before looking ahead again. “Works for Greef Karga. I brought him back as a bounty shortly before I took the job with the kid,” he explained briefly. 

Cato’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he nodded, everything making sense. “No wonder he was scared of you,” he muttered under his breath with a quick smirk at Din. 

A few short minutes later and the speeder slowed to a stop outside of a door in the rock face. 

“Alright,” The mythrol said, shifting the speeder down. “We can’t go any further than this,” 

“Let’s go,” Greef urged. 

That was all the invitation Cato needed. As soon as Din was out of the speeder Cato grabbed the amban rifle that had been propped between his knees and followed suit. 

On the rocky ground Cato glanced up at the base war above them. 

“Cato,” 

He looked over at Din as he said his name, curious as to the hesitant tone in his voice. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” The Mandalorian asked. 

Cato answered by slinging the amban rifle over his shoulder, making sure it magnetised to the back of the bandolier that they had scavenged out of a crate in the _Crest_. “I’m fine. Today is a good day,” he said, hoping to reassure Din. 

Then he grabbed the new blaster Cara had supplied him with, comforted at the familiar weight in his hand and followed Cara and Greef over to the door, Din following. 

At the door, Din walked up to the controls and began to fiddle with them only to stop a few seconds in and step back. “The controls are useless,” he stated. “They’re melted.” 

“Well, it's probably not rated for lava,” Greef said with a shrug. 

“Imperial trash,” Cara agreed. 

Cato let out an amused breath, but watched carefully as Din stepped away from the rockface, looking up towards the cliff. 

“Alright, well, I’m headed back,” The mythrol said with a wave. “Hit me up on the comm, we can set a rendezvous time,” He suggested. 

“Park your gills right there until I say otherwise!” Greef snapped, pointing threateningly at the mythrol who froze and looked around nervously. 

“I’m startin’ to dehydrate, boss,” he complained. 

“Okay, how does thirty more years off your debt sound?” Greef negotiated. 

Cato walked up to Din, who was currently looking up at the flight deck that jutted out over the chasm. “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly as Greef and the mythrol continued to argue in the background. 

Din didn’t answer, just looked over at Cato. 

Behind them, there was the sound of panels being torn off and wires being cut. Din looked past Cato to the trio, Cato following suit. 

“Hold tight,” he said, then looked back at Cato, reaching out to squeeze one of his hands. “See you in a minute,” he whispered before taking a step back from Cato and rocketing up into the sky as the jetpack powered to life. 

Cato stared up at Din as he flew upwards before landing on the flight deck and disappearing from Cato’s view. “Sometimes,” he mumbled to himself. _Sometimes I wish everything had worked out._ He finished the thought in his head, thinking about the strange alternate timeline where the Empire never rose to power and he had stayed on Mandalore with his family, eventually becoming a Mandalorian. A peculiar thought to say the least. 

Sounds of shouting came from the flight deck and Cato furrowed his brow, watching as a figure appeared over the edge, still screaming. Then, he realised what was happening and quickly retreated a few steps towards Cara, Greef, and the mythrol as the body of a stormtrooper landed on the ground with a heavy thud. 

They stared at the body for a moment and then looked up towards the flight deck. 

A gentle ping from behind them made Cato jump, though he relaxed when he saw it was just the door opening. 

“Well, looks like your boyfriend did it,” Cara said, sending Cato a teasing grin. “Let’s go,” she said, waving Cato into the lift. 

Cato happily complied and after a minute of arguing with the mythrol again, the four were on their way up to the flight deck. 

As the little lights over the door blinked, showing that they were getting closer and closer to their destination, Cato, Cara, and Greef readied their blasters. Cato and Cara flanked the door, ready to shoot at any hostile forces. 

The lift pinged again and the doors slid open, revealing a handful of dead stormtroopers and a Mandalorian. 

“Empty base, huh?” Din asked snarkily as they stepped out. 

Cato watched as Cara stepped over the bodies of the stormtroopers over to the edge of the flight deck, peering over the edge into the chasm below. “Oh, you are way braver than I am,” he muttered, eyeing the edge apprehensively and giving it a wide berth. 

“The reactor should be set in the heat shaft,” Greef said, drawing their attention away from the drop off. “If we drain the cooling lines this whole base will go up in a matter of minutes,”

“Look,” The mythrol suddenly spoke up, pointing to one of the pieces of equipment covered by a tarp. “It’s a mint Trexler Marauder. You know how much we can get for this on the black market?” he asked excitedly. 

“And it's gonna get vaporized like the rest of this base,” Din interjected flatly. “Now let's go.” 

Breaching the base proved rather easy. Din cut the wires to the cameras and the occasional stormtrooper or staff were no match for four well trained fighters and...an accountant. Not that the mythrol did any of the fighting. 

The group of five made it to the bridge in a matter of minutes, remaining undetected. Cato was finding that reducing people to ashes with the amban rifle was quite useful when the occasional scuffle had the risk of going on too long or getting loud. 

At the bridge they managed to slip in undetected and Cara grabbed the officer in a chokehold, letting him fall unconscious. 

The mythrol and Greef ran up to the unconscious officer to look for anything that could help them and secure him to keep him from impeding their work. Meanwhile Din was locating the heating shaft and shutting down the security feeds on the base while Cato and Cara stood watch. 

Cato glanced pointedly over at the unconscious officer. “And you still don’t believe that you could break my ribs,” he muttered to Cara. 

She sent Cato an exasperated look. “No, I _know_ I can break your ribs, I just don’t think that I’m going to break them by hugging you,” she corrected. 

Cato scoffed. “I beg to differ,” he shook his head a little. 

“It’s not my fault your ribs are weak and you’re always dying,” Cara retorted. “Speaking of which, have you died since last time you were on Nevarro?” 

Cato frowned. “I don’t think so,” He said, thinking back to all the new problems that had arisen since they were last here. “ _Almost_ died several times though,” 

Cara nodded. “Part of the job description, right?” She asked. 

“Apparently,” Cato snorted. 

“I found the heat shaft,” Din announced. “Let’s go,” he beckoned and the rest of them all quickly followed behind him off the bridge and back into the hall, Cato lingering for a half second as a spike of pain flashed through his head. He brushed it off a moment later and hurried to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately the actress has started to ruin Cara for me. I haven't liked the actress since the whole pronoun thing this summer and after hearing about the other week ohhhhhhh boy am I glad she's gone. I was hoping I'd be able to separate the character from the actor but alas...it appears that it's not working very well. Which is difficult, because Cato has a great relationship with Cara and it's now very difficult to write. 
> 
> On a different note, I think I'm gonna rewrite a paragraph or two in this chapter because I definitively decided that the jetpacks can carry two people (though not as well as one, but for short jumps it works well enough) so I might have Cato go up to the landing platform with Din.


	20. XIX: Rising Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While moving through the base, strange and disturbing information is discovered.

A few minutes of sneaking around the corridors following Din’s lead eventually led them to the heating shaft. The mythrol opened up the doors to the chamber using the code cylinder Greef had lifted off the officer from the bridge. 

As Cato’s four companions moved into the antechamber, he stayed back, looking over his shoulder as he heard voices. 

“Cato!” Cara hissed, drawing his attention back around. “Come on!” she whispered loudly from the next room. 

“I'll meet you!” Cato whispered back, thoughts flying through his head that made no sense and decisions that were based purely on impulse. 

Not waiting for a response, Cato turned away and peeked around the corner to make sure no one was coming. 

Seeing no one, Cato turned right and began to move quietly down the hall towards the jumbled voices he had heard. 

He couldn’t say why he felt compelled to follow these voices. He didn’t even know what they were saying, but something drew his interest and he knew he just _had_ to follow them. Maybe it was the Force guiding him again. Or maybe he was just crazy. But he knew he had to find the source. 

A couple doors down and to the right, Cato stopped, flattening himself on the inside of a pillar as the voices became more distinct. 

“—Could still be incomplete,” A young, male voice said from inside the room Cato was nearest to. “There are many opportunities for error, one instance being if the mind cannot handle the placement—,” 

“We’re working on the solution we discussed,” An older and far more authoritative voice said, cutting the other off. 

“ _Potential_ solution,” the first voice corrected hastily. “There’s still no way to know if it would work,” 

The sound of nearing footsteps urged Cato to press himself against the wall even further as a patrol of two stormtroopers passed, thankfully coming from the direction he had been heading and thus not seeing him hidden behind one of the support partitions. 

“—Why we have the operative. Speaking of which, we have confirmation that she is on her way to meet up with the Moff. Her arrival should be imminent. Hopefully she will be able to provide the information you need to ensure this process is completed,” the second voice finished with a note of finality. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we both have work to get back to,” 

Cato cursed himself silently, trying to sink deeper into the corner as footsteps grew louder from right on the other side of the partition he was hiding behind. Thankfully, they did not come towards him, instead going the other way. Cato listened for any more movement or signs that anyone was coming, but when none came he began to carefully make his way back down the hallway towards the heat shaft. 

As he neared, he saw his friends run into the opposite hallway, clearly making a getaway. Cato glanced over his shoulder once more, wondering what he had just overheard, and then started to run after them. 

A ripple of nausea hit Cato on the second step and he faltered for a half second before brushing it off and hurrying after the others. 

“Hey,” he whispered, coming into stride with Cara. 

“Hey yourself,” she answered, looking him over. “Where did you go?” 

He shook his head. “Just had to—,” Cato stumbled this time as a wave of nausea knocked into him, his vision doubling and warping as the floor and walls seemed to curve and waver. He stumbled into a wall, catching himself before he could fall completely.

“Cato? Cato!” 

The voices of his friends seemed far away and muffled as a high ringing in his ears took over his auditory senses. 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , it’s only been four hours, this shouldn’t be happening,” someone said from beside him, his vision only showing him a blurry smudge of silver. Hands gripped his face as his head lolled to the side, forcing him to look up into the face of Cara. Or...no...it wasn’t Cara. It was Fennec Shand. 

Fury consumed Cato in an instant and he lunged forward, hand closing around the blaster on his thigh. He had _killed_ her. How was she alive? Again. _I’ll kill her again if I have to. I’ll kill her a thousand times over if that’s what it takes._

Another wave of nausea and lightheadedness crashed over Cato and he instead just fell back against the wall, going almost completely limp. His head lolled back against the wall again and he looked up at the blurry visage of Cara. Cara…? Not Shand, Cara. Cara, his friend. He came here with Cara. He was on a mission with Cara. Shand was dead. He had killed her. He watched her die.   
This was Cara. 

“What the hell is going on?” he heard Cara’s muffled voice ask. 

“Whatever it is, it needs to hurry up, we have ten minutes tops!” someone hissed anxiously. 

“Cato,” silver filled Cato’s vision as Din moved in front of him, holding him up. “Cato, can you hear me?” _Yes. Yes, I can_. Cato felt someone’s hands on him, reaching around in his jacket. “What are you doing?” Din asked, looking away from Cato, down and to his left. 

“Aha!” 

The hands withdrew and moved to his arm. He could feel his sleeves being bunched up, there was a prick of pain, the uncomfortable feeling of something entering his bloodstream and Cato fell forwards onto the ground, catching himself with his hands on the floor. 

He heaved a couple breaths in as whatever he had just been injected with flooded his system. His vision came back into focus, sharp and clear and his hearing returned to normal. 

“Cato,” 

He flinched and jumped up, heart seeming to beat twice as fast as he took a moment to process everything. 

Din stood in front of him, a hand half extended to reach for Cato. The Mandalorian looked cato up and down and then looked over at Cara. “What did you do?” 

She held up one of the now empty vials, syringe needle extended. “Adrenaline shot,” she explained simply. Then she looked over at Cato, who was staring at her in a mixture of confusion and horror as he realised he had thought she was Shand and had tried to attack her—to kill her. “You alright?” She asked. 

Cato nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine now,” He assured. 

“Good, because we need to leave, _now_ ,” Greef said, urging the group back into a run. 

Two turns and they all skidded to a halt, flattening themselves against the wall as Din held up a fist. A couple stormtroopers were shouting to each other and the sounds of a dozen footfalls told them that more were moving nearby. 

“—Call in reinforcements,” one ordered. 

Din signaled to turn back and they hastily turned and went back the way they had come and taking the other hall at the intersection. 

“—purge the drives!” someone up ahead said anxiously. 

They rounded the corner, blasters up and already firing at the two uniformed men at a small station in the next hall. 

“Destroy it!” one of them shouted frantically as charges of red light began to fly around him and he grabbed his own weapon. In a matter of seconds the two men were dead, and curious, Cato approached the little station. 

He nudged the body of the second doctor off the control panel, looking at the uniforms in confusion. He didn’t recognise this particular uniform or the little symbol on their shoulders. Who were they? He looked over at the panel, finding a lot of the main screen to be damaged. 

“What the…?” 

Cato looked up at the sound of Greef’s exclamation and found the other four members of his group in front of the opposite wall, which seemed to be set with rows of water-filled tanks. 

“I thought you said this was a forward operating base,” Cara said. 

“I thought it was,” Greef answered, seeming genuinely confused. 

“No, this isn’t a military operation. This is a lab.” The words hung heavy in the air as Cara said them and Cato looked down at the controls again, thinking back to the conversation he had overheard. “We need to get into the system, figure out what’s going on. Cato?” he looked up to see her looking at him. “Any luck?” 

He looked back down at the panel and started pressing a couple commands, only electing a couple flickers on the screen. “It’s pretty damaged and I’m not a trained mechanic,” he answered with a shrug. 

“Mythrol?” Cara said expectantly. 

“But...what about the reactor?” He asked anxiously. 

“Do it!” she snapped. 

Cato shuffled over to the side as the mythrol came over and started working on the panel as well. “I don’t recognise these uniforms though, but I can tell you they’re not military.” Cato said, crouching down to get a better look at the dead men. 

“The Client who I interfaced with for the commission, he had a doctor with him who wore that uniform,” Din answered. Cato looked up and found him a couple steps closer to see the body better. 

“So...they’re doctors,” Cato said, making a mental note. 

“—replicated the results of the subsequent trials,” A recorded voice suddenly spoke, drawing everyone’s attention. “Which...also resulted in catastrophic failure,” The mythrol had managed to get a hologram up on the console, showing a man dressed in the same uniform as the doctors at their feet. “There were promising effects for an entire fortnight, but then, sadly, the body rejected the blood.” Everyone moved closer to the hologram, Cato glancing up at the others to gauge their reactions, which all seemed pretty on par with his. “I highly doubt we’ll find another donor with a higher M-count, though. As you are aware, my colleague is working on an alternative option, but until we have more information I recommend that we suspend all experimentation. I fear that the volunteer will meet the same, regrettable, fate if we proceed with the transfusion. Unfortunately, we have exhausted our initial supply of blood. The Child is small, and I was only able to harvest a limited amount without killing him.” 

Cato immediately looked up at Din, a torrent of emotions running through him. They were using the Child’s blood? What were they doing with it? An m-count? Alternative option? 

“If these experiments are to continue as requested, we would again require access to the donor. And my aforementioned colleague would need access to the subject they have deemed viable. Any opportunity we have to further these experiments to completion must be taken if you wish to proceed. I will not disappoint you again, Moff Gideon,” 

And with that name dropped, the transmission flickered out, leaving Cato to stare at where it had been.

Din was the first to break the silence, looking around at the others. “This must be an old transmission. Moff Gideon is dead.” He stated. 

“No,” The mythrol said suddenly. “This recording’s three days old,” 

Cato shook his head, thinking back to the conversation he had eavesdropped on a few minutes before. He was certain Moff Gideon had not been in that room, but they had mentioned an operative going to meet with ‘the Moff’. The first voice in the room, the younger one, was he perhaps the ‘colleague’ mentioned in this transmission? 

“If Gideon is alive then…” Din trailed off. 

The brief moment of silence gave Cato the opportunity to pick up the sound of footsteps. Before the stormtroopers had rounded the corner, Cato had his blaster drawn and was firing charges at them and moving towards the wall. 

As the rest of the group responded, Cato flattened himself against the wall behind the control panel and ran up to the corner created by the doorway into this corridor. As he took refuge behind the wall, Cato was able to start picking off stormtroopers coming from the right wing of the hall before they even entered the room.   
A beam of red light flew right at Cato and he leaned into the wall. A burning sensation sprung up across the right side of his face and the blaster clattered from his hand as he instinctually went to cover the burned graze on his cheek. 

His lack of fire power led to several stormtroopers to enter the room at once, one immediately charging at Cato. Slipping the amban rifle from his back, Cato thrust upwards towards the stormtrooper, arcs of electricity crawling across the white armour. The trooper dropped their weapons and fell to one knee, Cato already having reclaimed his blaster from the ground in time to put a hole in his head before he even hit the ground. 

Kicking the dead body away from him, Cato surveyed the scene and began to take out any more that tried to enter through the hall, soon seeing the end. Turning back around to face his friends and the final few, Cato dropped his blaster back in his holster and hefted the amban rifle again, disintegrating the trooper directly in front of Din.   
As the man was reduced to dust, the Mandalorian looked up from the remains to Cato. Obviously, Cato couldn’t see any expression through the helmet, but he liked to think that Din was a little amazed. Cato gave a short nod and loaded another of the cartridges into it before slinging it onto his back again. 

The group looked around and seeing no more immediate threats began to move again. 

“We need to get the kid,” Din said urgently to Cato, who approached the group as they moved towards his position. 

Cato shook his head. “Jet back, you’re faster that way,” He said, understanding the urgency. 

“But you—,” 

“I’ll be fine.” Cato cut him off. “You need to get the Child. We’ll finish up here and then meet back at the city.” He said firmly. “It will feel like a minute,” he promised. 

Din hesitated, but then he nodded. He raised a hand to the back of Cato’s neck, pressing their foreheads together briefly. “ _Sol ca’nara,_ ” he repeated. 

“ _Sol ca’nara,_ ” Cato agreed. _One minute_. He pulled away. “Now _go_ ,” he said, making a shooing gesture with his hands. 

Din gave Cato a firm nod and then hurried away while Cato turned back to Cara, Greef, and the mythrol. 

“Come on! Let’s go!” Greef urged. 

“When did you say this place was gonna blow again?” the mythrol asked as they took off running in the opposite direction from Din. 

Cara and Cato led the way through the halls back towards the flight deck. The group quickly took care of any stormtrooper in their path, usually not even having to stop. On the few occasions where they did have to stop it was not any longer than a minute at most, Cara being enough of a secret weapon that she could probably take care of the troopers single handedly.

Cato felt a momentary rush of relief when they finally made it back to the doors that led onto the flight deck. He quickly forgot it though, reminding himself that this wasn’t over yet as they ran across the deck towards the lift they had taken to get up here. 

The lift doors opened suddenly and two stormtroopers stepped out, immediately noticing the four of them and starting to fire. 

Cato ducked behind a line of crates, Cara and Greef doing the same after pushing the mythrol down. Cato popped his head up a couple times to give some return fire, but found that they were pretty well pinned by the heavy fire coming from the stormtroopers in the lift—of which there were more than two. 

“We’re trapped!” the mythrol shouted as he, Greef, and Cara did their own volley of return shots. 

Cato crouched back down and looked over to the left where the Trexler Marauder was stationed. He elbowed Cara in the ribs, gaining her attention. “Hey, can you drive?” He asked loudly over the sound of blaster charges. She gave him a questioning look, but when he nodded his head towards the Marauder her eyes widened and she nodded. “I’ll cover you!” Cato promised. 

Cara nodded and shuffled over to the side while Cato went about the task of trying to hit the stormtroopers before they hit him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cato saw Cara dart across to the Marauder. “Get ready!” Cato warned, as he heard the transport fire up. He popped up over the top of the crates again and then quickly back down, not taking any shots. He took no more than two seconds to process where the stormtroopers were standing and then popped up again, this time concentrating three charges at the one tucked just inside the door to lift on the left side. 

Two of the charges hit, the third hitting the door, and the trooper fell. 

At that moment the marauder pulled up on the other side of the crates. “What are you guys waiting for, an invitation? Let’s go!” Cara shouted from inside.   
“Go, go, go!” Cato urged, covering Greef and the mythrol as they boarded the marauder before following. 

Cato stumbled as the Marauder lurched forwards, planting his hands on the wall to stable himself. The transport stopped suddenly again and Cato almost fell over as it pivoted sharply. “Cara!” he shouted, making his way towards the cockpit. “I thought you said you could drive!” 

“Shut up!” Cara shouted back as she floored the Marauder towards the edge. 

“You’re not seriously considering going over—!” the mythrol shouted, seeing where the trajectory was. 

“Hang on!” Cara shouted. 

“Fuck you, Dune! I’ve had enough bad landings—!” Cato trailed off into a shout as the Marauder barreled over the edge, nearly going into a nosedive towards the bottoms of the ravine below. 

The transport hit the ground heavily, not an ounce of grace to it. They barely had time to reorient after the plummet-of-death before Cara driving forward again, making Cato stumble back. 

“Ohhhh I need to sit down,” He muttered to himself as his vision swam. 

“Cato! Man the guns!” Cara shouted. 

“On it,” Cato answered, closing his eyes for a moment. His vision was back to normal a moment later and he hurried to the back of the transport where the rear cannons were. 

As he slid into the little cockpit at the back, a sense of familiarity washed over him. This was what he knew. Cato flew through his routine, firing up the canons, checking the aim, and mobility, all of which were in perfect working order. “I love well oiled machines,” he muttered to himself as he locked onto the lead of the small group of speeder bikes pursuing them, firing the first sequence of shots at it. To his disappointment, the speeder evaded, but on the brightside he now had a feel for this particular weapon. “Come on,” He murmured, taking aim again and starting to fire one after another. “Come on you dodgy fucks,” several of the charges collided with the lead bike, sending it up in flames. “One down!” he reported. 

The remaining two split up and increased speed, flanking the Marauder and slipping out of range of the canons before Cato could hit them. 

“Hey! You’re about to get some company!” Cato warned, as he lost sight of the speeders. 

The Marauder suddenly careened to the side and an explosion shook the transport slightly. Cato smiled but knew there was still one trooper unaccounted for. 

“There’s one more, do you have eyes?” he asked, shouting back through the transport. 

“No!” Greef answered. 

“Fuck,” Cato muttered. Something behind them caught his attention and it took looking at it through the aim console to realise that it was the third speeder bike, empty. He muttered curses under his breath, and turned the canons so they faced towards the front of the transport. There he found the remaining trooper, hand raised over his head to throw a grenade into the cockpit.   
Cato blew him into pieces immediately. 

Behind them, he could see the base crumbling as lava flooded the systems. He heard the rest of the group cheer, but Cato’s eyes were locked on the shapes moving quickly towards them in the sky. 

“Incoming TIEs!” he warned. “You take evasive, I’ve got this!” 

Cara didn’t verbally respond, but the shift in the movement of the Marauder told him she had heard. 

As the five TIE fighters closed in, Cato weighed his options quickly. TIE fighters were notoriously agile and weaselly, especially in circumstances such as these given the terrain and the type of ship they were in. Cato refocused his aim from the ships to the edges of the ravine, starting to zig zag blasts at the cliffs to knock rocks loose and hopefully provide some cover and persuasion to avoid approaching. 

The TIE fighters were staved off for a disappointingly short time before they slipped in past the rocks, focing Cato’s shots in closer while they delivered their own attacks. 

As Cara evaded the incoming shots, Cato found it almost impossible to keep steady aim on anything. She yelled back a couple times, but Cato ignored her, finding his energy was better focused on trying to take out the fighters than shout snarky remarks at Cara. 

The lead TIE moved in a little closer and watching the target feed, Cato released a volley of shots that soared right into the lead fighter, scattering pieces everywhere in a fiery explosion. As the second one took the lead, a piece of the first nicked one of the wings, tearing off a portion and sending it spiraling towards the transport. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, time to go, time to go,” Cato muttered frantically as he quickly slid out of the seat, grabbed the amban rifle from where it was propped up and ran back towards the front, the explosion behind him knocking him to the ground. 

“Nice shooting,” Greef complimented as he helped Cato to his feet.

“Yeah,” Cato grumbled, wincing slightly. “Just wish the second one hadn’t taken out the guns,” 

“You alright?” the Magistrate asked. Cato nodded and headed to the cockpit. 

Greef and Cato stood behind Cara and the mythrol as they both worked on getting them back to the city in one piece. 

“We’re almost there!” The mythrol shouted as they left the ravine. 

“Yeah, now we just travel across the _totally flat landscape_!” Cato shouted back, not liking the newly exposed terrain they were in. 

The sound of rock and dirt exploding behind him, drawing ever nearer was making his heart rate quicken even more. He really hoped his fate wasn’t to be killed by three lousy TIE fighters. That would be depressing. 

The three fighters overtook them quickly, and Cato watched anxiously as they started to break for looping back around. 

However, to his surprise, one of them blew up as several charges collided with it. Cato narrowed his eyes for a moment, watching the mysterious phenomenon. Then it all made sense as the _Razor Crest_ swooped over the Marauder and Cato let out a huff. 

“Oh thank the stars, she can fly again without losing half the exterior plating,” he sighed in relief. 

Cara stopped the Marauder outside the gate to the city, the transport skidding a bit at the quick change in acceleration, but Cato was already headed for the exit. 

He jumped out onto the ground, looking up at the sky as the _Crest_ chased one of the fighters up and up and up until they were mostly lost in the clouds. A distant explosion was heard and Cato watched as metal began to rain down on the lava flats. Then the remaining fighter began to ascend into the clouds and Cato watched the _Crest_ speeding towards it in a nosedive, the ship spinning like a corkscrew as it fired on the final fighter which was shredded by the time the _Crest_ met it. 

“Dramatic,” he mumbled with a smile as he rolled his eyes. 

He watched fondly as Din brought the _Crest_ around to land in front of the city again, turning back to Cara, Greef, and the mythrol before going to the ship. 

“Well, I guess we’ve survived another day,” he said with a smile.

“That we did,” Cara agreed, jumping off the roof of the Marauder. 

“You tell your Mandalorian that was some pretty impressive flying,” Greef said, gesturing to the skip which had now landed a little ways away. “Actually,” he reached for a pocket. “I have to ask how much we owe you for the help,” 

“No need,” Cato waved it off. “With the repairs for the Crest, we’ll call it even,” he said.

Greef chuckled. “Well, perhaps I can buy you all a drink,” he suggested. 

Cato looked back at the ship and considering he didn’t see Din, figured it meant he was taking care of the Child and anxious to head to Corvus. “I appreciate it but,” he shook his head. “We’ve got to get going, and the quicker the better so we can stay ahead of Gideon,” 

“Well,” Greef reached out a hand and Cato clasped it. “Good luck, Cato,” he said. “And tell Mando I wish him luck as well,” 

“I will,” Cato assured. Then he turned to Cara. “Guess we’ll have to properly catch up some other time,” He said. 

She laughed. “Yeah, you have a lot of stuff to explain.” she agreed. Then they clasped their hands firmly and she pulled Cato into a hug, that for once didn’t feel like it was going to fracture his ribs. “Until next time,” 

“Until next time,” Cato agreed, stepping back. He gave a wave and then turned around, heading back to the Crest, which was blissfully lacking a maze of miracle string holding it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> sol ca'nara: one minute
> 
> Cato is gonna be so angry when he finds out that Shand isn't dead (assuming he's alive/present enough to recognise it) 
> 
> Also, if you're wondering about all the cursing, it's because I am incapable of not swearing and that is reflected in my work. I just can't not do it. Children love me.


	21. XX: Strange Lands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at Corvus in search of Ahsoka Tano and a bad feeling lingers with Cato.

The walls, ceiling, and floor of the _Crest_ ’s interior gave way to dark sand plains, the metal interior of the ship shifting into the dark, star-lit sand and cool night air. 

Cato stood from his place on the floor, leaning against the wall, and walked forwards, stepping towards the plains of sand. The night desert welcomed him as he stepped from metal to sand, and when he looked up in the sky, he found the familiar star-planet, leading him towards the flickering lights on the horizon. 

A cool wind blew, the whisper of his name on the air, and he turned around, long back at the ship. But when he did, the _Razor Crest_ was gone, only dark plains of sand stretching on and on in every direction. Endless, eternal, night. 

Cato looked back to the distant lights on the horizon and began walking, following the star-planet. 

The sand shifted around him, rising and building into people and buildings. Cities and empires rose and fell around him as he walked, growing more and more intricate until he found himself before the massive and intricate colosseum. Cato stared up at the structure, the beauty and detail astounding. It felt oddly familiar, but he could quite place it. Maybe going inside would help. 

Then, the darkness that shrouded Cato suddenly thinned and lifted as the ship shifted into the landing cycle, rousing him from the trance-like state he had fallen into, the sand planes melting away into the familiar interior of the _Razor Crest_. He jolted as everything suddenly registered and he scrambled up from his place leaning against the wall, looking around for any sign of the sand planes. 

Nothing. 

“Fuck,” Cato breathed, dropping his head into his hands and raking his hands through his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled knotting his hands into his hair and resting his forehead against the wall. “ _Fuck_ ,” _Why did this keep happening_?

“Cato?” Din’s voice came from alarmingly close, making Cato jolt and look up in alarm. The Mandalorian hesitated a moment, tilting his head at Cato slightly, the Child looking between the two curious. “Are you okay?” Din asked. 

Cato ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, just….dream. Got disconcerted when I woke up.” Cato said dismissively. But a glance at Din told him he wasn’t satisfied. “I’ll tell you later,” he added quietly. 

The Child cooed toddling over to grab Cato’s leg. Cato smiled down at the Child and crouched down to pick him up. The kid tilted his head at Cato and ran a small hand over his features, fingers brushing the stubble along Cato’s jaw. Cato tilted his face forward a little to press a small kiss to the Child’s palm as he rested his fingers on the tip of Cato’s nose. 

The Child cooed with delight and removed his hand from Cato’s face to look at his palm curiously. 

“Calidan is nearby, but it will still take a little bit to get there. We should start walking,” Din spoke after a moment, seeming almost hesitant to end the interaction. 

Cato nodded and shifted the Child in his arms. “Do you have everything?” He asked. 

Din nodded. “Do you?” 

“Yes,” 

Outside, cool but humid air greeted them as well as sickly, pale green fog, drifting through the dead forest listlessly. Cato stopped part way down the walkway, looking out into the eerie forest with apprehension. This wasn’t exactly a comforting climate and the fog made the fallen trees and large boulders indistinct and hazy, sometimes looking like figures standing in the mist. 

The Child cooed and began to turn over in his hands the little silver sphere from the lever in the cockpit. Cato hadn’t noticed he’d had it. 

Din turned back around and walked up to them, tilting his head at the Child in Cato’s arms. “What did I say about that?” he asked rhetorically, gently taking the sphere from the Child. “This needs to stay in the ship,” he said, tucking it into one of the pouches on his belt. 

The Child grumbled unhappily and Cato shifted him in his arms again, still looking around apprehensively. 

“Not much to see here,” Din mused as some of the large creatures in the distance let out a low rumble. “I’ve never had dealings with a Jedi before,” he continued. Then he looked over his shoulder at Cato. “Except you, but I get the sense you’re a bit of a special case,” he said fondly. 

“And I’m not a Jedi,” Cato reminded him. But some of the anxiety faded from his posture and he let a small smile ghost across his face at the affection that showed blatantly in Din’s words. 

“Let’s head into town,” Din suggested. “See if we can pick up a lead,” 

Cato nodded in agreement and then looked at the Child in his arms who looked up at him in return. “I think you should sit in the satchel, kid,” Cato said, rubbing the tip of one of the Child’s ears. “There’s a lot of danger in the galaxy and you’re noteable,” he said as he gently set the Child into the satchel that Din was holding out. 

The Child cooed and began to fiddle with a loose thread on the bag, earning a fond smile from Cato as they started walking. 

“I thought she was Shand,” Cato said suddenly after a few minutes of walking in silence. 

Din looked over at him. “Who?” he asked. 

“Back in the base on Nevarro. When I…” Cato gestured vaguely with his hand near his temple, unsure of how to put it. “Cara was holding me up, and I couldn’t see very well, but when I looked at her...I didn’t see Cara. I saw _Shand_ , and—,” Cato stopped himself. “I was going to try to kill her. I tried, but when I moved I got too light headed, but…” he looked over at Din, fear draping around him. “I don’t know what’s happening.” he whispered. “So much has happened and I can’t keep track of it all, but this...scares me. I attacked you, I tried to attack Cara...and these fucking dreams,” he shook his head, not sure how to say what he was trying to, or even _what_ he was trying to say. 

“Maybe the Jedi will have answers,” Din said after a moment, but the way he said it told Cato that it was a mere hope. “And if they don’t then we’ll find someone who does.” he added after a moment, sounding a little more sure. 

Cato didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, allowing them to walk several more minutes in silence. 

The next time, it was Din who broke the quiet. 

“You mentioned after we left Trask that you knew who Ahsoka Tano is. Have you met her before?” He asked. 

“It’s complicated, but she was the padawan of a friend, and when I lived on Tatooine I was told some stories about her. Nothing too detailed, the stories brought back painful memories for my teacher so they weren’t often shared.” Cato explained. “But I did meet her once. A long time ago. I don’t think she’d know who I am or remember me,” 

Din nodded silently, and as they walked, Cato saw the exterior defense walls of the city emerge from the fog. 

They both stayed silent as they approached the gate to the city. Cato’s apprehension grew as he watched the guards on the wall, most likely watching them, though the mist made it hard to tell. However, as they neared, the fog thinned a little and Cato looked up at the guards standing over the gate, who were—as expected—watching them closely. 

“State your business,” an armoured man shouted down at them harshly as they came to a stop in front of the gates. 

“Been tracking for a few days, looking for a layover,” Din answered evenly. 

The man looked them up and down, mostly focused on Din. “Nice armour,” he noted and Cato felt Din tense up slightly beside him. “You're hunters then?” he asked, thankfully moving past the armour comment, though it was not forgotten by Cato or Din. 

Din nodded. “That’s right,” 

“Guild?” 

“Last I checked,” Din answered. 

The man looked them over once more and then turned to one of the guards beside him. “Open the gate,” He ordered, and Cato felt a brief wash of relief. 

Inside the city however, Cato still felt on edge. Everything seemed dilapidated and shabby even though the defense walls looked to be well made and in good condition, something that felt a little off to him. The constant presence of armed guards stationed on the roofs of some of the houses did nothing to ease Cato’s worries either. Although very different, it brought back old memories of his brief time in Motok, something he’d much rather forget. As a result, he found himself walking closer to Din than usual, seeking his comforting presence. 

A little ways inside, Din approached a small vendor selling wares and being tended to by an elderly woman. 

“Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone…” Din trailed off as the woman looked up at them quickly and then walked away. Cato glanced at Din nervously, everything about this place sending him a bad signal. 

The Child babbled senselessly in the satchel and looked around with interest, but Cato’s attention was elsewhere, watching the armed guards that could be seen periodically along the street. He didn’t like this. Something was wrong. 

Din started walking towards an alley nearby and Cato quickly hurried to keep up. They approached a man and two children who were crouched in the shadows with what looked like some bowls of soup.

“You there,” Din said as they approached. “I need some information. We’re looking for someone,” 

The man and the children looked at them for a moment and then the man looked away, whispering something to the children and ushering them away. Cato half expected him to leave as well, but was surprised when he turned back to face them. 

“Please do not speak to them, or to any of us,” he begged. 

“Look, I just need to know—,” 

“The Magistrate wants to see you,” A heavily modulated voice said, making Cato flinch and turn around quickly to find two guards standing right behind them. 

Cato looked them up and down, making note of their drawn weapons and their stoic nature. He looked over his shoulder at Din who had turned to face them as well, also taking note of their gear and stances. Then he took a careful step towards them and complied, giving Cato no choice but to follow. 

The guards led Cato and Din down the main street to a secondary compound in the middle of the city. Leading up to the gateway, odd cages lined the walkway, a couple of citizens trapped in the strange contraptions, groaning in pain as the glowing bonds of the cage seemed to give off an electric shock. 

“Please...help us,” A man begged as they passed. 

Cato spared him a glance out of the corner of his eye, but kept his composure. Just because he didn’t like this didn’t mean he could abandon the role he had to play here. 

The gates in front of them opened and Cato followed Din’s lead, stepping into the space beyond the gates. The gates closed behind them and Cato stared at the second set of closed gates directly ahead, trying to betray none of the anxiety that was roiling beneath his skin like an army of ants. 

Once the gates swung shut, they were only in the odd antechamber of sorts before the next set opened and they walked into a beautifully kept courtyard. The path they were on continued straight ahead, forming a walkway bordered by reflecting pools and immaculately kept gardens of familiar looking trees. It took Cato a moment, but he suddenly realised that the peculiar looking trees reminded him of the ones that were in Sundari. 

He quickly looked away from the gardens to focus on the woman who was standing a little ways down the walkway and sprinkling something from a small wooden bowl into the water. 

“Come forward,” She ordered as the gates closed behind them, not evening looking up. They obeyed, approaching the woman who turned to face them. “You are a Mandalorian?” She asked, looking at Din. 

“Yes,” 

She turned back to the water, sprinkling more of whatever was in the bowl into the water for the fish that Cato could now make out. “And you?” she asked, side eyeing Cato. “What are you?” 

“Many things,” Cato answered evenly, hoping he exuded enough false confidence to fool her into thinking he wasn’t a complete mess. 

The woman turned her head towards him, looking him up and down. “A bounty hunter?” She questioned. 

Cato tilted his head slightly, giving a half nod. “Sometimes,” 

She looked him up and down again then went back to feeding the fish. “I have a proposition that may interest you,” 

“Our price is high,” Din warned. 

The woman looked up at them and then walked to the center of the walkway, facing them squarely. “This target is priceless,” she stated firmly. “A Jedi plagues me. I want you to kill her,” 

Cato stared evenly back at her, staying very still while his mind worked in a frenzy of half formed thoughts. _This Jedi has to be Ahsoka. She must be close. Answers are close. She will have answers. I hope she has answers_. 

Din was quiet for a half beat before answering. “That’s a difficult task,” 

“One that you are well suited for,” the woman stated. “The Jedi are the ancient enemy of Mandalore,” 

That sent a little twinge of guilt through Cato. He knew it was stupid, but he always felt like he had betrayed his family by pursuing the path of a Jedi for so long instead of staying to take the mantle of a Mandalorian. 

“As I said, our price is high.” 

The woman raised her hand on the droid that had been standing behind her began to walk forward, holding out a spear. The magistrate took it and held it out for them to look at. “What do you make of this?” she asked. 

Din approached and extended his hands. The magistrate placed the spear in his hands and he spun it slowly, looking it up and down. Then he gently hit it against one of his vambraces, the metals clanging together before decaying into a clear ringing note. 

“Beskar,” 

“ _Pure_ beskar,” the magistrate emphasised. “Like your armour,” she added. “Kill the Jedi and it’s yours.” 

Din returned the spear to her and took a step back. “Where do we find this Jedi?” 

☀︎︎

Cato was growing more and more agitated the longer they were on this planet. 

They had left the city about two hours ago and Cato was certain this planet was worsening whatever sickness plagued his veins. The mist seemed to lull him, his vision sliding out of focus before Cato realised what was going on and forced himself to see clearly again. The cool condensation in the air was also bringing back a familiar chill, seeping into Cato skin even as he felt sweat start to bead at his brow. This place...it wasn’t good for him. 

Cato stumbled over exposed roots and stones, even when he tried to focus on the ground. His mind just seemed to be shrouded in a haze, as if the mist around him was somehow seeping into his mind to muddle his thoughts. 

He shook his head. No, that was impossible. 

Din had tried talking with Cato in the beginning, to discuss the strange town they had come from and the woman who ran it. But it had become clear very quickly that their time here was having a negative effect on Cato, both physically and mentally. Even the Child had noticed, reaching a concerned hand towards Cato, in what was probably an offer or attempt to heal him, but Cato shook his head and laboured on. 

“Well,” Din said, steadying Cato as he stumbled. “These are the coordinates,” they started walking again once Cato found his footing. “Keep your eyes open. We must be close,” 

A few more minutes passed in tense silence, Cato trying to focus on his surroundings but found he could barely focus on putting one foot in front of the other. His breathing seemed loud and he could barely make out anything besides that and the high ringing that faded in and out. A couple times he thought he saw a shadowed figure in the mist, but when he looked it was gone or merely a piece of wood or stone. 

Din stopped suddenly, making Cato stop as well, looking around. 

“You hear that?” Din asked after a moment of silence. 

“No,” Cato murmured and winced as the ringing got louder. “Then again…” He squeezed his eyes shut and touched his fingertips to his left ear delicately. 

“Don’t worry,” Din murmured. “Sit right here. Let me see what’s out there,” he said, speaking to the Child. 

Cato kept his eyes shut for a moment, hands gently shielding his ears as he half expected there to be blood as the ringing began to fade. 

Din sighed. “False alarm,” 

A familiar humming sound nearby made Cato perk up, but someone shoved him back roughly before he could do anything. He stumbled and immediately looked up to find Din in front of him deflecting a strike with his vambraces from two white blades of light. Lightsabers. 

The attacker pulled back and struck again, the glowing beams making a distorted ringing sound as they hit the beskar. Strike after strike, again and again, forcing Din back a few steps towards Cato. A rogue strike towards Cato was just barely caught as Din threw out a shielding arm, the blade glancing off the inside of his vambrace. 

A strong overhand attack forced Din to raise both his arms, pushing back against the blades of light, locking them in a struggle for strength for a moment and illuminating the woman’s face. A familiar face, though much older than the fourteen year old girl Cato remembered. 

As Ahsoka drew back her twin lightsabers to strike Din again, Cato unclipped his own saber and just as she brought the twin blades of white light arcing towards the Mandalorian, he slipped around Din, holding his ignited lightsaber above him to catch hers. 

At the sight of the lightsabers sparking against each other Ahsoka withdrew a step, lowering her weapons. Cato followed suit, lowering the golden blade to an unthreatening angle. He was breathing heavily despite having barely done anything, his head was spinning, and the heavy chill in his bones seemed to be weighing on him like lead. 

“Who are you?” Ahsoka asked quizzically. Then she looked Cato over more closely and her expression grew more confused and almost distrustful. “And what’s wrong with you?” 

Cato shook his head, waving her question off half heartedly, feeling faint. He stumbled a bit and Din grabbed him, keeping him steady.

“Ahsoka Tano, Bo-Katan sent us. We need to talk,” Din said, relieving Cato of the duty to give any sort of explanation. 

Ahsoka regarded the two and then looked past them, her expression suddenly turning into one of wonder. “Well, I hope it’s about him,” she said, and Cato and Din both looked over their   
shoulders to where the Child sat, watching the scene unfold curiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably gonna rewrite the part where they go an talk with Elsbeth, bc Cato is pretty out of character there. I just don't know how to change it. Because he has acted as a bounty hunter before and done the whole stoic intimidation thing, but he was out of his fucking mind then, and he's out of his mind now as well, but in a totally different way.


	22. XXI: Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato gets answers and they aren't exactly happy.

Pale, silvery light shone down on the dark forest as the moon hung high in the sky. Cato sat hunched over with his back against a rock, half conscious and watching with hazy thoughts as the Child and Ahsoka sat across from each other, a lantern between them. Cato knew that they had to be communicating through the Force somehow—something he never learned to do and was now incapable of—as they reacted to each other despite no verbal words passing between them. 

Ahsoka often would look away from the Child and towards Din who was pacing several yards away, stopping frequently to watch for a moment before resuming his pacing. Other times she would look at Cato with the same warm and almost amused look that she had when she looked over at Din. As time went on her looks at Cato were more often filled with concern. 

Cato wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He wished he could sleep, the extra dose of medicine was keeping the looming coma-like darkness at bay, and thus providing the perfect opportunity to get some proper sleep, but he just couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough. One moment the heavy, cold air of the night was pressing in around him, chilling him to his core, his skin turning ghostly in the moonlight. Then the next he was stifling hot, trying to move his arms—which felt swollen and leaden—dexterously enough to peel off his outer layers of clothes to little avail, leaving him with the horrible feeling of just wanting to tear his skin off. 

Several times, Cato had tried to call out to Din, the frustration of his situation bringing him to the brink of tears, but his mouth felt dry and the words cracked and died in his throat. That drove the frustration to the point where Cato just sat there, head resting against the boulder he was leaning against, eyes vacantly staring into the night as tears silently slipped down his cheeks. He would suffer alone then. 

☀︎︎

Cato must have fallen asleep eventually from sheer exhaustion, because he woke an indiscernible amount of time later in a different location, this time laying on the leafy ground with a thinning piece of fabric he knew to be Din’s cape draped over him, and the Mandalorian in question laying beside him. 

Cato suddenly knew why he had woken up as he looked away from Din and found Ahsoka crouching a little ways away and looking at him expectantly. 

“The...the Child…” Cato croaked. “Where is he?” 

Ahsoka cocked her head slightly. “Grogu is safe. He’s resting there,” She said, nodding behind Cato, which when he turned around revealed the sleeping form of the baby curled against Din’s side, something Cato had missed a moment ago. 

“Grogu?” He asked, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. 

“His name,” 

Cato paused, taking in this new information. “Grogu,” He repeated the name quietly, casting a lingering look to the sleeping child. Then he looked back at Ahsoka. “He told you?” He guessed. 

She nodded. “He told me about his time at the Jedi Temple, the time waiting in the encampment that he was held in prior to being freed by your Mandalorian,” She said. “He told me about you and the adventures the three of you have been on together.” Then she tilted her head, looking Cato up and down almost sadly. “And he told me about your sickness.” She said solemnly. 

Cato nodded slowly, drawing one of his knees up to his chest. 

“He has told me what he can about your ailment, but I want you to tell me more.” Ahsoka said, standing. She took a few steps closer and held a hand out to Cato. “Talk with me?” She requested. 

Cato took her hand and let her help him to his feet, following her as she led them a little ways from the campsite so as not to disturb Din and the Child—Grogu. Din and Grogu. 

“Sit,” Ahsoka requested, gesturing to one of the several large moss covered boulders that littered the forest. Cato obeyed and sat, folding his hands awkwardly in his lap. “This sickness—,” 

“How did you know something was wrong?” Cato interrupted quickly, thinking of when they had first come across Ahsoka. “You asked me what was wrong. How did you know?”

Ahsoka sighed and once again looked Cato over. “There is…” She hesitated. “You are familiar with the concept of seeing and gauging people’s health based on the interaction of the Force around them, correct?” she asked. Cato nodded mutely, having heard about the idea many times. “There is nothing around you,” she stated. “Just darkness. I can feel it, even without focusing, like a blackhole consuming all in its path. There is such darkness, and yet I don’t see an evil man before me.”

Cato mulled that thought over in his head for a moment. “You can...feel the Force darkening around me?” he asked, clarifying. 

“I can’t feel the Force around you at all. It’s like you are drawing it in bit by bit and devouring it. A black hole.” Ahsoka stated, a quizzical tone to her voice, though laced with worry. “Please, tell me everything,” 

Cato took a deep breath and then began to explain what was happening—the loss of consciousness, the physical illness, the hallucinations, loss of time, everything. He explained it all to her to the best of his ability, eventually moving on to describe the trick he had done on Nevarro with the Force, what he suspected had started all of this. 

It took nearly an hour to explain everything, going into further detail on certain aspects when Ahsoka requested. When Cato finally finished, his shoulders sagged a little, feeling the weight of everything he had just spoken of. 

Ahsoka was quiet for a moment, deep in thought as she stared at a small patch of moss on the ground in front of her. 

Eventually, she looked up, meeting Cato’s eyes. “I have heard of something like this,” She said slowly. “But it was long ago and not much is known about it,” She warned. “And I certainly don’t have specialised knowledge of it. Just what I picked up from my time at the Temple,” 

“Is it something that can be fixed?” Cato asked, not caring about whether or not it was ancient or not. 

Ahsoka nodded slowly, almost with uncertainty. “Yes...I never saw any of the records—,” 

Cato shook his head. “Just tell me. What do you think it is?” 

Another moment of hesitation passed and Ahsoka sat up a bit straighter, looking over at Cato with a somber expression that almost seemed...apologetic. “Have you heard of the Dark Plague?” 

☀︎︎

“What do you _mean_ he’s being puppeted?” Din asked incredulously as the four of them sat around a little fire the next morning, Cato watching Din resume his fretful pacing with a twinge of guilt. 

Ahsoka sighed heavily. “I _mean_ that if this is what it sounds like, then Cato is being corrupted by a Sith lord,” She said, as if that would ease Din’s worry. 

“How do we fix it?” Din asked immediately, nearly clipping off the end of Ahsoka’s question. 

“I don't know,” Ahsoka admitted, hunching her shoulders slightly as she rested her elbows on her knees. 

“What do you mean you _don’t know_? You're supposed to have answers,” Din said sharply. “How do we heal him? Who can help us?” He asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know these things. That last reported case of the Dark Plague was during the time of the Old Republic, I...I don’t have a lot of information on it,” 

Din fell silent for a moment and Cato felt his gaze staring into him, though Cato was very carefully avoiding him as guilt gnawed at him. “What will happen to him? If we can’t find a cure…” Din trailed off. “What will happen?” 

A heavy sigh was at first the only answer from the Jedi, but then she looked up and stared at Din after casting a quick—almost guilty—look at Cato. “He will be driven insane, to either death or obedience.” 

Silence fell over the group and Cato felt his stomach twist. _Death or obedience_. The phrase echoed in his head, and he felt as if it struck a chord in him, some deep recognition that this was the truth. 

“How do we cure it.” Din spoke after a moment of tense silence, voice tight and wavering faintly with barely contained emotion—be it fury or sadness, Cato wasn’t sure. The Mandalorian had stopped pacing and was now standing absolutely still, focused on Ahsoka. 

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka said calmly but firmly. “There _is_ a cure, but I don’t know what it is. I never completed my training at the Temple and I didn’t research an ancient obscure plague while I was there,” she said. “I cannot help Cato right now, but I can try to help Grogu,” 

Grogu gave a soft coo, drawing Cato’s attention to him. He was looking up at Din, head tilted to the side questioningly. Then he looked over at Cato, ears drooping slightly. 

A pang of guilt pierced Cato and he looked away from the child with a grimace. Now that Ahsoka had told him what Grogu had told her about his past, Cato felt as if he were letting him down. He had lost everyone from his old life when the Jedi Order fell, but had grown close to Din and Cato in their time together and now he was going to lose Cato too. 

_It’s alright _. Cato tried to tell himself. _He will still have his father. Din will still be there._ He repeated to himself woefully. He doubted Grogu had ever seen him as a father anyways, Cato always felt more like an odd addition to the father-son duo. Din undoubtedly filled the role of father, Cato was just a caretaker. __

__The group had drifted off into silence, Din sitting with Grogu on one of the boulders while Cato leaned up against a different boulder a little ways away, fighting back against the residual pain in his chest that was still prominent at times and thinking about the codmening information Ahsoka had given regarding his fate._ _

___Death or obedience._ _ _

__The leaves crunched and Ahsoka sat beside Cato silently, looking up at the ghastly trees as well._ _

__“I’m glad to see you're still alive,” she said after a moment._ _

__Cato looked over at her, a little confused._ _

__She met his eyes and smiled faintly. “You thought I’d forgotten?” She asked. “It’s been a long time, but I remember you. You were the coolest kid I knew,” She laughed lightly. “I found you a little annoying at first,” she admitted. “But then I realised that even though you weren’t even ten yet, your understanding of what was happening in the galaxy far exceeded my expectations. You understood the roles each of your family members played in the workings of the planet and to an extent their roles beyond Mandalore.” Her face fell a little. “We were both raised in a war and I didn’t realise how much that messed with us until you told me that losing your family was inevitable.”_ _

__Cato frowned, not remembering this._ _

__“I’m sorry. I know what losing everyone feels like,” She said softly, a vulnerability in her gaze that told Cato she was telling the truth._ _

__He sighed, wincing slightly as his chest flared up in pain again. He was definitely paying for all the running and fighting on Nevarro and the walking here. “I did lose everyone,” he agreed. “But I’ve found a place again. I’ve found a family again. And it turns out that I _didn’t_ lose everyone. Not permanently at least.” _ _

__Ahsoka looked over at him quizzically._ _

__“My sister, Adrestia. Do you remember her?” He asked, knowing that Adrestia would have only been two or so when they met Ahsoka. But Ahsoka nodded and seemed to perk up a little bit. “She survived the destruction of Alderaan and we found each other a couple days ago. And even if I didn’t find her again, I would still have my family now. And yeah,” He shrugged. “I will always miss the family I grew up with, but the people I’m with now...they’re good. They’re good and I’m happy, even if my fate is sealed.”_ _

__Silence stretched on for several moments, Cato aware of Ahsoka looking him over curiously._ _

__Eventually she sighed—almost in amusement—and leaning back again. “Our teachers would be so disappointed in us,” She chuckled softly. “A Jedi who forsook the Order and a Mandalorian who never even joined,”_ _

__Cato chuckled as well. “I like to think they would understand,” He said. “Anakin and Obi-Wan...in the end they just wanted what was best for us. I think they’d be proud,” _I hope they would be._ Cato never dwelled on his time training to be a Jedi, it was something he did his best to block out of his person seeing as no one else besides Luke—and now Ahsoka—could relate to it. Besides, it had been so long since he considered himself a Jedi, he often thought that those years training didn’t matter. They weren’t _him_. But they were. They were a part of his story, even if he disagreed. _ _

__The group stayed at the makeshift camp a little while longer, Ahsoka eventually leaving Cato to his thoughts in favour of meditating and speaking more with Grogu.  
To Cato’s surprise—and disappointment—Din didn’t come to sit with him, staying close to Grogu. That hurt more than Cato would like to admit, and he wondered if Din was afraid the sickness would spread to Grogu, or if he was trying to distance Cato from them in preparation for his inevitable downfall. _ _

__Eventually, Ahsoka told them it was time and they gathered the items they had shed in search of comfort and began to follow the woman further into the forest._ _

__Cato walked alone, Ahsoka leading the way, and Din and Grogu behind him by a couple paces. Oddly enough, his head felt a little less foggy today, and while all the walking was causing his healing lungs to flare up in pain every once in a while, he actually felt pretty okay. Emotionally he felt like shit, the news that he was more or less destined to succumb to madness was weighing heavily on him and again he thought back to the dreams he dared not speak of outloud or even think about for too long. The fields of bodies, the dark throne, the flashes of fighting Luke, and of course the worst of them all, plunging his lightsaber through Din’s heart and leaving him lifeless on the ground._ _

__Was that his future after all? Was that what the future held should he succumb to madness? To _obedience_? _ _

__He didn’t like thinking about that. The future was unpredictable enough, dwelling and theorising on it with the basis of dreams would only bring misery, that much Cato was sure of._ _

__Instead, he thought about what he _could_ fix. Ahsoka said the Dark Plague was caused by a Sith, but the Sith were gone. Maul was dead, as was Palpatine and Cato felt sure that he would have heard or felt something if there were others. _Right?_ _ _

__Regardless of the Sith matter, a failure in curing this sickness would result in Cato’s obedience to someone, who he highly doubted was someone he would _want_ to be obedient to. If the sickness ended in death, that was something Cato could reconcile with. But the possibility of serving someone else after having lost his mind was something Cato did not want to entertain. No, obedience was not an option. _ _

__Ahsoka stopped up ahead, Cato and Din slowing to a stop beside her as well._ _

__Grogu cooed, looking around the clearing that was filled with more boulders._ _

__Ahsoka smiled and stepped forward, looking down at the child in Din’s arms. “Let’s see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind,” She said kindly, gently poking Grogu’s nose with her finger. Then she motioned to one of the boulders and Din set him down gently atop the stone._ _

__Cato stood back and watched, rubbing his thumb on his opposite hand anxiously._ _

__Din stepped away and came to stand near Cato, though still far enough away that it made the little void in Cato grow a bit._ _

__Ahsoka crouched down and lifted a small stone off the ground, tossing and catching it before standing again and facing Grogu. She lifted her hand and opened it, palm up, revealing the small stone. Slowly, she turned her hand, palm now facing Grogu. But the stone did not fall, simply hovered for a moment before it began to slowly drift away from Ahsoka towards Grogu, who reached out and pulled it closer before grabbing it._ _

__Cato couldn’t help the small feeling of pride swell in him at the sight._ _

__“Now, return the stone to me, Grogu,” Ahsoka said, holding her hand out again._ _

__Grogu looked down at the stone in his hands and then back at Ahsoka._ _

__“He doesn’t understand,” Din interjected._ _

__“He does,” Ahsoka assured._ _

__Grogu looked back down at the stone in his hands and let out a small whine._ _

__“It’s okay,” Ahsoka promised. He looked back down, but still made no move to do as she requested. “The stone, Grogu,”_ _

__Din gave a slight head jerk towards Ahsoka, trying to get Grogu to listen. But the child just dropped the stone, the pebble clattering to the ground._ _

__Cato pursed his lips, but still offered Grogu a small smile when he looked towards him._ _

__Ahsoka walked up to the stone and crouched, reaching out to take one of Grogu’s tiny hands in hers. She was silent for a moment before speaking. “I sense much fear in you,” Grogu gave a babble in response. Ahsoka stood and back away, turning back towards Din an Cato. “He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years,” She explained. “Let’s try something else,” she suggested, walking back to where she had been standing. “Come over here,” She directed._ _

__Grogu gurgled, and once again, Din nodded his head over to Ahsoka. But the child did not move._ _

__“He’s stubborn,” Din sighed._ _

__“Not him. You,” Ahsoka clarified. “I want to see if he’ll listen to you,” she elaborated when Din gave a confused head tilt._ _

__Din sighed and walked over to stand by Ahsoka. “That would be a first,” He remarked. “Cato’s the one he listens to,”_ _

__Cato let out a quiet breath of amusement at that and shook his head slightly._ _

__“I like firsts,” Ahsoka said with a smile. “Good or bad, they're always memorable,” she held out the stone for Din to take. “Now, hold the stone out in the palm of your hand,” she instructed, guiding Din’s hand. “Now tell him to lift it up,”_ _

__“Alright, kid,” Din said, holding his hand up. “Lift the stone,”_ _

__The child made no movement to try, merely tilted his head at Din._ _

__Ahsoka leaned towards Din, an amused expression on her face. “Grogu,” she reminded the Mandalorian before stepping away to stand beside Cato and watch._ _

__“Grogu,” Din tried, immediately earning a coo from the child. “Come on, take the stone,” He urged._ _

__But Grogu just looked down and grunted, not even trying._ _

__“You see?” Din asked, turning to Ahsoka. “I told you he doesn’t listen to me,” he said, tossing the rock back onto the ground._ _

__“Try to connect with him,” Ahsoka suggested, leaning against the boulder._ _

__“Cato’s better at this,” Din insisted. “He should do it. Kids like him,”_ _

__Cato looked down and shook his head slightly. “You’re the one who saved him, not me,” He reminded Din. “ _You_. I had nothing to do with that. You can do it,” He encouraged. _ _

__Din sighed and faced Grogu again, squaring his shoulders. A moment passed and Din looked down, reaching into one of the pouches on his belt, drawing out the silver sphere that the child loved stealing from the Crest’s control board. Din rolled it in his fingers for a second then held it out. “Grogu,” He called._ _

__Immediately, Grogu looked up and reached a hand out for the ball._ _

__Din sank to a crouch, continuing to hold the sphere out. “You want this?” He asked. Grogu gurgled and reached out for it. “Well, go ahead. Take it,” Din prompted. “Come on, you can have it. Come on,” he urged as Grogu squinted his eyes in concentration, outstretched hand starting to tremble a little._ _

__Then the silver ball flew from Din’s grasp and directly into Grogu’s._ _

__“Good job!” Din praised, jumping to his feet. “Good job, kid!”_ _

__Cato smiled fondly as well, watching Grogu turn the ball over in his hands._ _

__“See that?” Din asked, crouching in front of him. “I knew you could do it,” He said fondly, taking the sphere from Grogu. “Very good,”_ _

__Ahsoka shifted beside Cato, and when he looked over he saw a troubled expression on her face. “He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” she said. Din glanced up at her, but quickly turned back to the child. Ahsoka sighed and glanced at Cato apologetically before looking down. “I cannot train him,”_ _

__“What?” Din asked immediately, standing up and walking over. “Why not?” he questioned. “You've seen what he can do,”_ _

__“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger,” Ahsoka said urgently._ _

__“All the more reason to train him,” Din reasoned._ _

__“No.” Ahsoka said firmly, walking up to stand directly in front of Din. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight,” She warned. “To the best of us,”_ _

__Cato looked away from Ahsoka and Din, instead shuffling over to the child and crouching down in front of him._ _

__Grogu cooed at Cato somberly and Cato reached out to let him wrap his hand around one of his fingers. “There’s nothing wrong with caring,” Cato said quietly, ducking his head slightly to look into Grogu’s eyes. “We just learn how to make sure our caring doesn’t hurt, yeah?” he murmured softly._ _

__Grogu ran his free hand over Cato’s cheek, his ears drooping slightly._ _

__“—I’ve delayed too long,” Ahsoka said from behind Cato. “I must get back to the village,” she said, walking away with a gentle farewell touch on Cato’s shoulder._ _

__“The Magistrate sent us to kill you,” Din called out suddenly._ _

__Ahsoka froze and turned back around, and Cato recognised the tense form as she prepared to fight her way through the Mandalorian if need be._ _

__“We didn’t agree to anything,” Din assured her. “And we’ll help you with your problem if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained,”_ _

__Cato looked up and met Ahsoka’s gaze briefly before she focused on Grogu, who cooed softly._ _

__She looked over them and then just turned, once again walking away into the forest._ _

__Cato lifted Grogu up and looked over at Din, who reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before they followed after Ahsoka, knowing that she would need their help._ _

__☀︎︎_ _

__“She has a small army of guards armed with A350 blasters,” Din informed her as they all walked through the woods, having caught up with Ahsoka. “Two HK-87 assassin droids and a hired gunfighter. He reads ex-military to me,” he said. “Combined, not even your laser swords would be able to protect you from all that fire power,”_ _

__Ahsoka smiled, amused, and gradually came to a stop. “True,” She agreed. “But don't underestimate the Magistrate either,” She warned._ _

__“Who is she?” Cato asked, wondering why Ahsoka was so set on getting whatever it was she wanted from her. “She offered him a staff of pure beskar to kill you,” he said, nodding over at Din._ _

__Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Morgan Elsbeth,” Cato didn’t recognise the name. “During the Clone Wars her people were massacred. She survived and let her anger fuel an industry which helped build the Imperial starfleet,” Ahsoka turned away and Cato looked around, wondering if the sickly air to this planet was a direct effect of that. “She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process.”_ _

__Din looked up at the barren trees. “Yeah, it looks like she’s still in business,” he commented._ _

__Ahsoka nodded, then turned back around. “When you were in the city, did you see any prisoners?” She asked._ _

__“There were three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate,” Din said, nodding.  
Cato grimaced, trying not to think about the sickly groans of pain they had been uttering. _ _

__“We must find a way to free them,”_ _

__“A Mandalorian and a Jedi?” Cato quirked an eyebrow and gave a wry smile, looking between them. “They’ll never see it coming,”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man oh man, I'm taking a pretty big risk here with the Dark Plague stuff. I've never played any of the video games (and likely won't) so my information on the Dark Plague is limited to what I read on the wiki page and will be filled in by my own ideas on how it works and functions. 
> 
> I feel like there should be Jedi con. Cato, Ahsoka, Cal, Ezra, Grogu, Luke, and Leia can all meet up, have martinis and discuss their various traumas. Maybe that's what will happen in book three. 
> 
> Though having not watched all of Clone Wars (don't worry about spoilers, I know most of it anyways), none of Rebels, and played none of the games I'm probably the worst person to write that. If someone else wants to do that, a) feel free to use Cato, B) tell me bc I want to read it.


	23. XXII: The Jedi

Cato watched closely from the shadows of the roof as Ahsoka slowly approached the Magistrate and her guards, the night wind whipping her cloak around her and helping with her intimidating aura. 

Ahsoka stopped a few yards from the Magistrate and reached into her cloak, throwing the item carelessly onto the cobbled street in front of her. The beskar pauldron clattered against the stone loudly in the tense silence before siding to a stop in plain sight of the Magistrate. 

“Your bounty hunters failed,” Ahsoka stated coldly. “Tell me what I want to know,” she demanded. “Where is your master?” 

The Magistrate gave a tight lipped smile. “Kill her,” She ordered, stepping back towards her inner keep. 

“Love to,” the gunfighter commented dryly, readying a blaster. 

All firepower was unloaded on Ahsoka, but she leapt up off the ground, sailing an impossible distance through the air to land on a nearby roof, across the street from the one Cato was on. 

Cato watched carefully as everyone turned to focus on her, adjusting his grip on the amban rifle in case something went wrong. 

But Ahsoka was flawless, her twin sabers deflecting every shot as she darted down the gables and disappeared into the side streets, the guards running after her. 

The gunfighter and the Magistrate exchanged a few words, the soldier quickly leaving with the two assassin droids to pursue Ahsoka. The Magistrate looked up at the prisoners she kept and then turned away, heading back to her keep, giving an order to the remaining guards. 

Cato readied the amban rifle, tracking one of the two guards as they moved towards the prisoners, weapons raised. 

The quiet sound of the weapon discharging was followed by a short scream and then nothing as the ashes of the guard drifted to the ground. Cato quickly reloaded and focused on the second, but found Din already there and dispatching them. 

Movement below drew Cato’s focus and he aimed at the third and unexpected person in the boulevard, Din doing the same as they came face to face. But Cato recognised him as one of the villagers and he didn’t seem to be intent on fighting them as Din holstered his blaster and gave a nod.

The man nodded in return and hurried over to one of the cages. 

Din glanced up towards Cato’s hiding place, then turned and went to help. 

Cato scanned the area, looking for any more of the guards. Across the boulevard he could hear the occasional faint scream and the even rarer scuffle as Ahsoka dealt with her pursuers. But right here there didn’t seem to be any threats. 

Movement a couple streets down caught Cato’s attention, and he lifted the rifle again, seeing three guards heading back towards the boulevard, weapons all at the ready. Cato lifted one of the cylinders from the bandolier and held it between his teeth before aiming again and firing on the lead guard. 

They barely got the chance to scream before they were reduced to dust, and Cato was already reloading by the time the remaining two were facing the boulevard. A split second later and the second one was reduced to ash, and as the third one tried to make a run for it, Cato vaporised them as well. 

Stars, he loved this gun. 

Cato continued to watch over the area as Din and the man who had spoken with them earlier helped the prisoners free and ushered them into the nearest home. 

The burly figure of the gunfighter stepped into the boulevard, Cato immediately locking onto him and preparing to fire. 

He risked a moment of time to check in on Din, who stood in front of the doors to the inner keep—facing the gunfighter—and Ahsoka, who stood on the wall of the keep, surveying the scene for a moment before disappearing into the Magistrate’s courtyard. Good, everything was working out so far. 

Cato refocused on the gunfighter and Din, keeping the amban rifle ready, but not looking through it. He hadn’t seen the assassin droids since they left to follow Ahsoka, and while he didn’t doubt her skill, he didn’t want one of those sneaking up on them. 

“So, you threw in with the Jedi?” the gunfighter questioned. 

Din tilted his head back towards the keep. “Looks that way,” 

“And your pretty friend?” The fighter asked. “He around here too? Or did he not make it?” he sneered. 

Din made no move, but Cato could tell he was annoyed. He always got annoyed when people brought him up, particularly when referring to him as the ‘pretty boy’ or any related name. Cato on the other hand, had stopped caring, especially when he was in this position acting as a sniper. When he was on the ground in front of those people it was a little different. 

Silence stretched between the two gunmen, quiet enough that when the fighting started up inside the walls of the keep, they could hear it clearly. 

The gunfighter made a nod to the keep. “Who do you think’s gonna win?” he asked, taking a careful step forward, drawing Cato’s aim to him. “Could be your side,” He took another step and listened to the clang of lightsabers against beskar, then shrugged. “Could be my side,” 

Cato’s finger hovered over the trigger as the gunfighter continued his slow and deliberate steps forward. 

“I’ve got no quarrel with you, Mandalorian,” He said, taking a few more steps. 

“That’s far enough,” Din warned, holding out a hand to stop him. 

The man stopped, seeming to know better than to push his luck. “You and I, we’re a lot alike,” He said. “Willing to lay our lives down for the right cause,” he paused and Cato tightened his grip on the amabn rifle, trying to decide if he should just fire right now and get this over with. “Which this is not,” 

A tense quiet followed, filled with the faint sounds of Ahsoka and the Magistrate fighting. Then there was the clatter of metal of stone and silence. 

The gunfighter shrugged. “Sounds like you win,” he said, holding his large blaster out in a symbol of surrender and slowly crouching to place it on the ground. 

Cato watched closely, the man’s expression perfectly visible through the rifle’s scope. He was looking for something. An opening in Din’s defense. His hand twitched towards the holster on his boot and Cato fired. 

The man was already reduced to cinders by the time Din’s charge hit him, the beam travelling through the cloud of ash and hitting one of the light posts further down the street. 

Din looked up at Cato again and holstered his blaster. “I had it,” he said, raising his voice so Cato could hear clearly. 

Cato managed to crack a grin as he reloaded another round into the rifle. “I figured, but I wasn’t about to risk your life so you could be dramatic,” Cato called back down to him. 

He was pretty sure Din scoffed, but he was too far away to be certain. 

The villagers that had been hiding in one of the nearby homes came out, the same man from before walking up to Din. 

Cato watched as they interacted briefly, but the moment was cut short as the man let out an exclamation that was immediately drowned out as Cato’s left arm went numb with pain. He fell back, skittering down the roof a couple feet before he was able to catch himself with his good arm, grunting in pain as it wrenched his right arm painfully. 

His shoulder was burning with a familiar pain, his whole left arm and shoulder feeling like they had been doused in fire. He let out a pained hiss between his teeth, trying to get back up to a more stable position, as laying flat on his back angled down towards the ground was not his ideal situation. 

“Cato!” 

Cato blinked back the involuntary tears that had welled in his eyes, seeing Din land beside him and reach out for him. 

“The d-droid—,” Cato gritted out as Din helped him sit up. 

“I dealt with it,” Din assured, reaching out to gently grab Cato’s face, turning it this way and that to make sure he was unharmed besides his arm. “Did you get hit anywhere else?” He asked, after determining that Cato looked fine besides the injured shoulder, which he was now looking at carefully. 

“Nope,” Cato grimaced. “Just the one,” 

Din nodded and pulled Cato’s uninjured arm across his shoulders before scooping the auburn haired man up along with the amban rifle and getting them back onto solid ground. “You’ll be fine, we just need to clean and wrap it,” Din said reassuringly, which Cato mostly knew was just to keep him from passing out. Afterall, they’d both been shot plenty of times and knew the process by heart at this point. 

Cato groaned again as his arm was jostled while Din carried him over to the familiar man. 

“Do you have a med kit and somewhere he can rest for a moment?” Din asked. 

The man nodded, and urged them to follow him. Cato tucked his face into Din’s armour, eyes squeezed shut as the burning feeling got worse when Din started walking again. 

A few moments later, and Cato was being lowered gently onto a small bed in a modest home. Din crouched beside him, one of his hands threaded with Cato’s, soothingly swiping his thumb back and forth across the back of Cato’s hand. 

There was some shuffling elsewhere in the room, but Cato couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere besides Din. 

“We don’t have much,” The man from the village said, coming back over to the bed with a small kit and a bowl of water balanced on top. He set the kit and water down and with Din’s help began to remove Cato’s jacket. 

Cato thought he _may_ die of pain if this torture went on any longer. The fabric moving against his arms felt like rubbing sandpaper across an open wound, and _bending_ his arm to remove it from the sleeve almost made him wish he had been knocked out. 

But eventually, the jacket was off, and the man cleaned the wound carefully before applying a bacta patch—much to Cato and Din’s protests. Then the wound was dressed and Cato promptly passed out. 

☀︎︎

The sun had risen by the time Din and Cato left the town, heading back towards the Razor Crest and the sleeping Grogu. Ahsoka waited for their return outside the city walls. 

Din had one hand entwined with one of Cato’s, the other olding the beskar spear Elsbeth had promised as payment for Ahsoka’s death. Din had tried to refuse it, but Ahsoka had insisted, and Din was unable to argue with her. 

Back at the _Crest_ , Cato was hit with sudden realisation that they were about to hand the child over to Ahsoka. It was time to say goodbye. 

He stood by the door to the compartment, leaning against one of the walls and watching sadly as Grogu slept in his little hammock. Cato was tempted to reach out and stroke along one of his ears, but he refrained. He didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want this to become any more real. 

Sensing Din walk up beside him, Cato looked up at him. Din reached out and took Cato’s hand in his own, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

“She’ll take care of him,” Din said, his voice a hoarse whisper. 

Cato nodded sadly. “I know…” he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked back to Grogu. “I know, I just—,” He broke off and shook his head. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” he whispered. He let out a dry laugh, wiping away a stray tear with the heel of his hand. “This is probably better, but it still–it still hurts,” 

A gentle grip on his jaw guided Cato to look back at Din. The Mandalorian stared down at Cato and carefully brushed away his tears. “I know,” he murmured. “But it won’t change anything. Not really,” 

They both knew that was a lie. 

Cato nodded miserably and turned back to the sleeping child. Din reached out and gently shook him awake. 

“Wake up, buddy,” He said softly. “It’s–it’s time to say goodbye,” 

Grogu opened his eyes slowly with a sleepy coo, looking at Cato and Din with tired eyes before falling back asleep. 

They let him sleep for a few more slow and somber minutes, then Cato gently lifted him from the hammock, cradling him close. Din sat on the edge of the open compartment and with a gentle tug at Cato’s waist, urged him to sit with him. Cato did so, leaning against Din, head against his shoulder as they both cradled the sleeping child in their arms. 

Just a little longer. 

☀︎︎

When Din and Cato finally did descend out of the Crest with the now awak Grogu, Ahsoka was waiting. 

“You’re like fathers to him,” She said as they neared. “I cannot train him,” 

Din stopped at the end of the ramp. “You made us a promise. And we held up our end,” he reminded her. 

Ahsoka stepped forward and approached, reaching out a hand to Grogu, who took it. “There is one possibility,” she looked up at Cato and Din. “Go to the planet Tython. There you will find the ruins of an ancient temple that has strong connections to the Force,” she said. “Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.” 

“Then what?” Din asked. 

“Then Grogu may choose his path.” She said with a small smile to the child. “If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him.” she paused. “Then again,” she folded her arms across her chest. “There aren’t many Jedi left,” 

“Thank you,” Din said. 

Ahsoka nodded. “May the Force be with you,” she said with a nod to the Mandalorian. 

Din gave one last nod and then turned, walking up the ramp and back into the Crest. Cato went to follow, but Ahsoka stopped him with a hand on his wrist. 

“I know I don’t know the cure for the darkness that is poisoning you, but I can try to learn.” She said. “I can’t promise it will be fast, or that I’ll learn anything, but I will try.” she promised. 

Cato gave a small smile and placed his hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” he said. “I hope we see you again soon. It’s not very often I meet someone from my old life,” 

Ahsoka gave a sad smile and nodded in agreement. “I hope so too,” She agreed. Then she let go of Cato and took a step back. “May the Force be with you,” 

Cato inclined his head in thanks and then turned away, heading back into the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to having this version all caught up!


	24. XXIII: Soft Touches & Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just soft moments before the madness returns. And ridiculous amounts of Mando'a

“Hmm,” Cato hummed in content as he lay in Din’s arms, the comforting darkness surrounding them. “Do you remember that planet?” He asked softly, playing with the hair at the back of Din’s head and gently tracing shapes onto the back of his neck. 

Din gave a quiet chuckle and nuzzled his face into the crook of Cato’s neck. “We’ve been to a lot of planets, _cyar’ika_. You’ll have to be a little more specific,” he said, warm breath tickling Cato’s neck. 

Cato smiled lazily and pushed Din a little, though because they were embracing, it merely rocked the both of them gently. “The planet with the lakes,” he clarified. “We were there chasing that thief and they ended up in that village. After we finished the job the villagers begged us to stay the night, to be a part of their celebration,” Cato laughed quietly. “We wanted to leave right away, but they convinced us to stay, so we agreed that we would stick around for a few hours. We spent the whole night there with those people. You even stole my dance partner at one point because you were jealous,” 

“I don’t remember any of that,” Din denied immediately, but Cato could feel him smiling against his neck, giving him away. 

“Oh really?” Cato teased. “So you don’t remember dancing with me? And telling me that I looked pretty when I was happy? Or getting asked to dance by a _very_ pretty young man, who you turned down because—and I _quote_ — ‘I have my partner right here’?” 

Cato grinned with triumph when Din groaned and tried to bury his face even further in the crook of Cato’s neck. “I thought you were too drunk to remember that,” he mumbled. “That’s what you told me the next morning,” 

“I lied,” Cato admitted happily. 

Din hummed, but made no comment. 

They were silent for a few moments, content to just hold each other in their moment of solitude while Grogu slept peacefully. 

“That night was when I decided to find you a home,” Din spoke up after a minute or two. “Watching you dance and talk and drink with people...people who weren’t criminals, that...I realised you deserved a normal life. A _peaceful_ life. A life I couldn’t give you,” 

Cato pondered that for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “Even though you wouldn’t be there to steal my dance partners from me?” he said after a moment of silence. 

Din groaned in protest. “He was _flirting_ with you,” he said, as if that explained everything—which it kind of did. 

“People always flirt with me,” Cato scoffed, amused. “Almost every bar we stepped into over the course of that year had at least one person who flirted with me and you rarely stepped in then,” he pointed out. 

“You were flirting back,” 

Cato furrowed his brow. “And I slept with a lot of the people who flirted with me in bars; your point?” 

Din was silent for a moment before finally speaking again. “You were happy,” he murmured after a moment and Cato understood. 

He drew his hands back from Din’s hair to gently grab his face, guiding it back from his neck. He couldn’t see Din, couldn’t see anything, the world obscured by the scrap of cloth tied around his head. But he didn’t need to see. He brushed his thumbs over Din’s cheeks and gently pressed their foreheads together. “I wasn’t going to stay. I wasn’t going to leave you,” He whispered. “You’ll never have to worry about me leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here, with you, forever,” he promised. 

Din hummed and pulled Cato closer. “Good,” he murmured before kissing Cato unexpectedly, drawing a surprised and muffled yelp from him. 

Cato was immediately lost in the kiss, kissing back as soon as he realised what was happening. The outside world seemed to float away, the fear and pain that so often shrouded him these days, the worry and anxiety, the steadily growing knot of dread, all of it. The only thing Cato could focus on was Din. The way his fingertips seemed to burn paths across Cato’s skin as they slipped beneath his shirt to roam across his back, tracing the scars and muscle there. The way their breath mingled as they kissed, warm mouths slotted over one another. And they way Cato was suddenly shifted from laying on his side to laying on his back, Din hovering above him and reluctantly pulling back slightly to let them breathe. 

His hands were still beneath Cato’s shirt, now splayed out on his ribs and tracing delicate lines there. Cato felt his fingers gently brush over the scar there from when Calican had shot him on Tatooine, then moving to an older one from a knife fight that Cato had barely won. Slowly, carefully, Din began to move his hands, pushing Cato’s shirt up further, stopping when he heard Cato’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Is this okay?” he asked softly. 

It took Cato a moment a moment to gather his thoughts, mind still reeling from the kiss mere moments ago. But when he did, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” He whispered softly. “I just...get overwhelmed sometimes,” he admitted. Din made no further movement, and Cato felt him slowly drawing his hands back. Before he could take back his touch, Cato reached out and snatched one of his wrists, making the Mandalorian freeze.

“Cato, I don’t want to push—,” 

“Let me finish,” Cato requested, interrupting. When Din didn’t speak, Cato loosened his grip on Din’s wrist. “It’s just reflex. I never cared about showing myself to all those one night stands in the past. Because they were just that. One night stands. They could wonder about the scars all they wanted and I could lie all I wanted. But not you. I could never lie to you. And you know all the stories anyways. In all their grit and horror. None of the fanciful heroics. You know _me_ and you’ve seen _me_ ,” Cato sighed, sheepishly. “I know they're nothing new to you. You’ve seen them all before. You’ve treated many of them. But sometimes I forget that this is all real, and I worry that you’ll see failure written across my skin,” he murmured. 

Din shifted above Cato, and then he felt the Mandalorian’s warm breath on his face as Din pressed a gentle kiss to Cato’s lips. “I don’t see failure. I see _strength_ ,” he whispered. 

Cato let out a breathless laugh, bringing his hands up to absentmindedly trail along Din’s sides and back. “I’m a broken man, Din,” 

Another kiss was pressed to Cato’s lips, which he greedily tried to deepen, only for Din to pull back just enough to break it. “Then let me help put you back together,” 

Cato couldn’t help but smile, trailing his hands up to cup Din’s face and pull him in for another kiss. “I could never say no to you,” he mumbled against his lips. 

☀︎︎

Cato sat cross-legged on the floor of the Crest, Grogu in his lap, the both of them leaning over Cato’s small book. Tython was a long journey, even in hyper-space, so Cato and Grogu had been finding creative ways to fill it. 

“That’s my mother, Vega Byrd,” Cato said, pointing to one of the small, messy sketches in his book. “ _Ner buir_ ,” he repeated in Mando’a. 

Grogu gurgled, running his fingers over the drawing. 

“When we lived in Sundari she was the head of the Mand’alor’s personal security and on Alderaan she was a tactical advisor,” Cato explained. “When I was little she used to tell me ‘ _kar’tayl tion’tuur bah akaanir e sosal ti kar’tayl liis_ ’ which is what her mother— _ner ba’buir_ —told her when she was growing up. It means ‘knowing when to fight is equal with knowing how’. _Ner ba’buir_ was also a tactical advisor. _Te akaan gotabor_ is what they called her. Nii’dara Byrd, the war engineer,” 

Grogu moved his small hand from the messy scribble of Cato’s mother to a different one, a woman with harsher features. He cooed at the drawing and looked up at Cato expectantly.

Cato nodded and smiled at the child. “Yeah, good job, that’s her.” He praised. “She died when I was very young—most of my family did—so I don’t remember exactly what she looks like. But I remember that she had long red hair, which is rather uncommon for Mandalorians. The shorter hair is easier to maintain with the helmet. She used to teach me how to braid it, saying that one day I would be able to braid Adrestia’s hair for her.” 

The child made a sound that eerily resembled a scoff, making Cato laugh. 

“Yeah, I don’t think she’d let me braid her hair now either,” He agreed. “Adrestia, _ner vod’ika_ ,” He scoffed in amusement. “She’s not so little anymore. She’s taller than me now,” he mused. “ _Ge kyrayc ni bat Trask_ ,” he added. He sighed and looked down at Grogu, who was looking over the little sketch of Adrestia. “ _Kaysh e chaavla alor jii_ ,” Cato said. “She won’t even tell me the name of her organization. A ‘ _network_ ’ is what she calls it,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll make her tell me one day,” he promised. 

Grogue cooed and impatiently pointed at more of the drawings. 

“Oh, yeah,” Cato leaned forward a little, looking at the sketches. “Those are _ner bavodu’e_ —my aunts—Aera and Zoval,” He said, pointing to the two sketches beside his mother. “That is my grandfather, _ner ba’buir_ , Maez Djek, and that’s my father, Alexon Dazhyn,” he continued, moving to the others. 

The child cooed happily and then pointed to the last drawing on the page, a poorly drawn recreation of the Byrd family crest. 

Cato grimaced at his handiwork, wishing he could remember the crest better. “That’s my clan’s signet. Well, the Byrd family signet. Like how gar _b’buir_ is a mudhorn.” he explained. “ _Cuun—gar, ner, bal Din—aliit aliik e ibic_ ,” _Our clan signet is this_. Cato quickly sketched the mudhorn signet onto the page. “The mudhorn. Like on _Din’beskar’gam_ ,” He explained. “ _Ibic_ ,” _this_. He pointed back at the crudely drawn version of the Byrd signet. “ _E te aliik be aliit Byrd—ner tal’din aliit_ ,” Grogu cooed curiously, running his fingers over the already brutally smudged drawing. “It’s an adar,” Cato said. “The founders of Clan Byrd fought one and earned it as their signet. Their names were Kol’ryn Byrd and Ama Reyl. They were both from old Mandalorian houses, but there was a falling out of some sort, so they left and started a new house. _Evaar’la aliit_.” 

Cato shifted Grogu around so that the child was facing him now. “Never forget,” he said, holding his small hands in his own. “ _Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Bic e meg gar gotal’ur bic,_ ” 

_Family is more than blood. It is what you make it._

“If you keep this up he’ll be fluent in Mando’a before he is in Basic, _ner kar’ta_ ,” an amused voice said. 

Cato looked up to find Din leaning against the ladder up to the cockpit, watching them both with a slightly tilted head. Cato smiled at the Mandalorian and cocked his head to the side. “ _E ibac bid dush_?” he asked. _Is that so bad?_

“ _Nayc_ ,” Din answered without hesitation. 

“ _Ibac e meg ni gehatyc_ ,” That’s what I thought. Cato said with a satisfied nod. Then, curious to know how much Din had heard, asked “ _Tion’solet munit gan gar r’ motir ogir?_ ” 

Din shrugged and walked forward, coming to sit beside Cato, reaching out to let Grogu grab his fingers. “Long enough to have fallen in love with you all over again,” he said simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> Ner buir: my mother/father  
> Kar'tayl tion'tuur bah akaanir e sosal ti kar'tayl liis: knowing when to fight is equal with knowing how  
> Ner ba'buir: my grandmother/grandfather  
> Te akaan gotabor: The war engineer   
> Ner vod'ika: my little sister   
> Ge kyrayc ni bat Trask: Almost killed me on Trask  
> Kaysh a chaavla alor jii: She is a crime lord now   
> Ner bavodu'e: my aunts   
> Gar b'buir: your father's   
> Cuun—gar, ner, bal Din—aliit aliik e ibic: Our—you, me, and Din's—clan/family signet is this  
> Din'beskar'gam: Din's armour  
> E te aliik te aliit Byrd—ner tal'din aliit: Is the signet of Clan Byrd—my blood family  
> Evaar'la aliit: a new family  
> Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Bic e meg gar gotal'ur bic: Family is more than blood. It is what you make it.   
> Ner kar'ta: My heart/love  
> E ibic bid dush: Is that so bad?  
> Nayc: No (answer)   
> Ibace meg ni gehatyc: That's what I thought   
> Tion'solet munit gan gar r' motir ogir: How long have you been standing there? 
> 
> There we go, a nice happy, sickness-free chapter before the pain returns. I realized that I'd never explicitly mentioned Cato having scars before and felt kinda dumb, because it's a big part of how his history 'haunts' him, but I guess I scrapped a lot of the scenes where they were brought up. Anyways, so now I have to go do some sprinkling of info (after I finish book 2) so it's not totally out of the blue. 
> 
> Also, I know that there's probably some confusion about Cato's timeline in terms of leaving the Rebellion, escaping Kappa V, going to Kreios and the events that transpired during all of that. 
> 
> To put it simply, Cato was on Kappa V for at least several months, though I currently don't know exactly. After he and Din escaped, Cato travelled with Din for about a year, helping with bounties, flirting and sleeping with ppl in random bars, having mental breakdowns, and in general having a rollercoaster of a year. After that year, Din brought Cato to Kreios where Cato stayed for five years (during which the Empire fell and the New Republic took over) until coming to get him for assistance with Baby Gogurt. 
> 
> Have some random info about the Byrd family *sprinkles glitter*
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	25. XXIV: The Seeing Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at Tython, locating the seeing stone which is supposed to call a Jedi to them for Grogu.

“Grogu,” 

The child looked up immediately from the silver sphere at the call of his name, looking at Din expectantly. Cato rolled his eyes, trying to keep from smiling as Din just chuckled and let Grogu go back to turning the sphere over in his little hands. 

A couple seconds passed in silence, save the content grumbled of Grogu as he searched out every little seam in the sphere’s construction. 

“Grogu,” Din repeated, once again chuckling when he got the same results. 

Cato leaned forward and smacked the side of Din’s arm lightly. “ _Din_ , you can’t just keep saying his name for the hell of it,” Cato reprimanded, pursing his lips to try to keep his smile from growing. “You’ve been at this for the past...I don’t even _know_ how long!” Cato pointed out. 

Din was silent for a moment and Cato sat back, content with his victory.   
“Cato,” the Mandalorian said suddenly, in the same tone he had been using with Grogu’s name. 

Cato dropped his expression into a deadpan as Din looked over his shoulder at him. “Don’t you dare,” He warned good naturedly, narrowing his eyes at the Mandalorian. 

Din didn’t move and radiated smugness. “Cato,” he spun the chair around to more fully face Cato, who glowered, trying to decide how best to enact his revenge. 

“Cato,” A voice whispered behind him, feeling so close that he swore he could feel breath on the back of his neck. 

All thoughts of revenge left his mind as Cato quickly jerked back and looked over his shoulder into the empty space behind him. A moment passed and nothing changed, the cockpit revealing no extra person. 

“Cato?” This time Din sounded concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked, a note of worry in his voice. 

Brow furrowed, Cato watched the empty space for a moment longer then turned back around, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah,” He answered distractedly. “Yeah, just...thought I heard something,” 

Din was quiet, looking at the space where cato had been looking a moment before, and he got the idea that the Mandalorian was pulling up the various schematics in his visor that allowed him to detect lifeforms and see certain elements that may be hidden to the naked eye. “I don’t see anything,” He said after a moment. 

“Probably just my imagination,” Cato dismissed, shaking his head. Then, looking out the viewports, he watched as a green and sand-coloured planet grew closer and closer. “Is that it? Is that Tython?” He asked, trying to draw attention away from himself. 

Din turned back around the focus on the controls again. “Yeah, that’s it,” he agreed. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Grogu, who was still cradling the silver ball. “Give me the ball,” He requested gently, reaching out a hand. Grogu moved the ball away from him, clearly not wanting to give it up. “Grogu, give me the ball,” Din said, more firmly this time. “Come on,” 

Cato watched the exchange with amusement, though there was certainly a bit of a dampener on his mood now. _It’s fine_. He told himself. _It was just once. Probably just your imagination. Nothing to worry about._ He knew he was just making excuses. 

Grogu finally relinquished the ball, placing it in Din’s outstretched hand with a displeasured grumble. 

“Okay, here we go,” Din said, holding the ball up between his thumb and forefinger. “You can have it, just like before,” Grogu raised one of his hands, clearly trying to see if he could just reach it—which he could not. 

Cato drifted out of awareness, looking out the viewports at the star-dotted expanse before them, stretching beyond Tython into infinity. He stared at one of the stars, brow furrowing as he recognised it as the star-planet from his dreams of the sand flats and the colosseum. Was this where those dreams were pushing him? Did some answer for him await on Tython? Would he find the sand flats here? Could he travel them and finally make it to the city lights on the horizon?

“—Did you see that? He did it! _Dank farrik_!” Din’s excited voice brought Cato back abruptly. “Hey, no. I’m not mad at you, you did good. I just...,” 

Cato stared at the stars a moment longer, tuning everything out again as he realised that the star he had been staring at wasn’t the star-planet at all, just another speck of light in the darkness. 

“Did you see that? Cato?” Din asked again. 

“Hm?” Cato hummed distractedly. He looked over suddenly, realising he had been spaced out. “Oh, yeah, yeah,” he said, not entirely sure what they were talking about. He glanced between Din and Grogu quickly, thoughts running elsewhere. “I...I–yeah.” he said lamely. 

Din tilted his head to the side, looking at Cato for a moment then turned back to the controls. “That’s Tython,” He said, speaking to Grogu. “That’s where we’re going to try and find you a Jedi,” Grogu let out a grumble. “But you have to agree to go with them if they want you to, understand?” he asked, and Cato’s chest tightened at the thought of saying goodbye for real. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too...powerful,” Din continued, a note of sadness to his voice. “Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?” Grogu grumbled in response and looked over at Cato with expectant eyes. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do. You understand, right?” 

Grogu cooed, eyes still locked on Cato, almost as if asking him something. 

Cato gave a pained smile and shook his head. “I can’t train you either, little one. I can’t...I don’t have those abilities anymore. And even if I did…” He trailed off. “I’m not a Jedi anymore. I couldn’t teach you properly. I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t be good for you,” his heart twisted painfully as Grogu looked away, ears dropping slightly. “But we’ll find someone who is. Someone who is better than me, someone who can help. I promise,” 

☀︎︎

Cato stumbled as they touched down on the plateau of the mountain, fighting to urge to collapse onto the ground and just shove his face into the dirt. He loved Din, he loved flying, but he did _not_ like flying by jetpack. No thanks, that terrified him to no end. And it would probably be fine if he could do it on his own, but clinging to Din while he flew them up to the seeing stone was just a big _nope_ for Cato. 

“Oh ground, sweet ground,” Cato mumbled, falling over to press his hands and knees into the dirt despite his initial efforts to avoid this. 

Din made a quiet noise of amusement, offering a hand to help Cato back up. Cato accepted the help graciously and got to his feet, dusting off his trousers. Then, the two of them started towards the circle of tall stones, Grogu watching with interest from Din’s arms. 

The tall stones were arranged in a rough circle as they had seen from the air, angled inwards and supported by other stones. The next circle was in the form of two steps down onto a smoothed stone floor, where in the center, a perfectly round rock sat, looking like half of a sphere. 

“Well,” Din said, looking around. “I guess this is it,” 

They approached the inner circles, Cato tugging on a piece of the bandolier as they walked, ready to unsling the amban rifle from his back at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t explain it, but this place felt...eery. And something felt sinister to him. 

“Does this look Jedi to you?” Din asked after a moment. Grogu cooed noncommittally and Din turned back to look at Cato expectantly. 

“What? Oh,” Cato looked around at the rocks and shrugged. “I was trained on Tatooine. I wouldn’t exactly call that a Jedi temple, so I’m not sure I’m the one to ask,” He remarked with a shrug. 

Din accepted that answer, and they continued to the central stone. Cato crouched in front of it, running his hands over the engravings that were so whether he could no longer make them out. 

“I guess you sit right here,” Din said quietly, setting Grogu down on the stone. “Okay, here we go,” Din muttered, stepping back. 

Cato looked up as Din’s words were greeted with a coo. Grogu sat on the stone, looking around with curiosity but not so much interest in meditating. 

“This is the seeing stone, are you seeing anything?” Din asked. “Or,” He looked around at the tall stones. “Are they supposed to see you?”   
Cato went back to tracing the engravings with his fingertips, standing up when he found that it was hopeless to read them. He looked curiously over at Din, who was slowly walking around the stone, seeming to inspect it meticulously. “If you’re trying to read the inscription it’s not worth it,” Cato told him. 

“I’m looking for a control,” Din stated. 

“You won't find one,” Cato told him. The Mandalorian looked up at him and Cato shrugged. “That’s not how the Force works. You can’t just flip a switch and activate it. It’s up to the individual,” He looked over at Grogu, who was reaching for the butterflies that floated past him. “It’s up to him,” 

Din nodded, but Cato could tell he was impatient, this whole thing making him a little uneasy. “Do you think you could find answers here?” He asked suddenly, looking up at Cato. 

Cato shook his head. “I can’t use the Force anymore, remember?” 

“I know, but both you and Ahsoka told me that it surrounds everyone, so even if you can’t use it like you used to, couldn’t you just...focus on it?” Din suggested, clearly hesitant with his lack of understanding when it came to these matters. 

A frown formed on Cato’s lips as he thought about it. “I don’t think it would work. Ahsoka said that there _is_ no Force around me anymore, it’s just...nothing,” 

“But if you _could_ connect with it, could you find answers?” Din pressed. 

“If I could connect to it, I could try to contact one of the Jedi Masters from from before and they could possibly help,”

Din took a couple steps towards Cato, reaching out to loosely tangle their fingers together. “Will you try?” he asked, a pleading note to his voice. 

Cato really couldn’t say no to him. He nodded in agreement. “I’ll try,” He promised. “But I don’t know what will happen, it may not work at all, and if it does...I could be stuck in a trance for hours,” he precautioned. 

“I’ll be here to keep you both safe,” Din swore, gently pressing their foreheads together. 

Cato smiled and lifted his and Din’s entwined hands, slipping his out of the Mandalorian’s grip to press a kiss to the palm of his gloved hand. “ _Ner kar’taylir gar darasuum_ ,” he whispered. 

“ _Bal ner kar’taylir gar darasuum_ ,” Din echoed. “ _Jii bal ratiin,_ ” he added. 

Cato smiled and took a step back, walking over a spot a little ways from the seeing stone. He carefully unclipped the amban rifle from his back and lay it gently on the ground, then shrugged his jacket off and lay it lining up on the ground. Deftly, Cato untied the sash from his belt, folding it up neatly and placing it on the ground in front of the jacket before unclipping his lightsaber and resting it gently on top. He sent one last small smile at Din and then sat down cross-legged on his jacket, squaring his shoulders and closing his eyes, tentatively reaching out into the Force.   
Nothing happened at first, the sounds of Grogu cooing and insects chirping persisted, Cato feeling no difference in himself or the air around him. He was about to give up and open his eyes, to see if there was anything else he could do to help. 

But before he could, all sound was silenced, his senses blinked away, and Cato was thrust into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:   
> (bal) ner kar'taylir gar darasuum: (and) I love you   
> Jii bal ratiin: Now and always
> 
> Annnnnnd Cato get's sucked into a black hole.   
> I literally roll dice to decide what happens to Cato each day. 
> 
> The moment these three get a break it's going to be peak family vibes. But they're not getting a break any time soon.


	26. XXV: The Sands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sand.

Din watched with mild fascination as Cato shed his weapons and sat down on his jacket, settling down for a moment and closing his eyes.   
Grogu cooed curiously as well, watching and after a few moments, mimicking Cato’s movements. 

A few seconds of silence passed and he saw Cato’s lips turn down slightly and his shoulders slump. Din was about to approach, when Cato unexpectedly crumpled to the ground, eyes wide open and pure white. 

“Cato?” Din hurried over to Cato’s side, crouching beside and unsure of what to do. “Cato? Can you hear me? Cato!” He reached out to try to shake him, but as soon as he touched him, pain flooded through his hands and up his arms. 

White hot pain blinded all of Din’s senses for a second, momentarily leaving him ignorant to his surroundings. Then it ended and he found he had fallen back in an effort to escape the pain, though his heart was still racing and his breaths were laboured. 

_What the hell? _He wondered. _Is that what Cato’s feeling right now?_ __

__“Kid—,” Din’s question died in his throat as he turned and saw Grogu surrounded by a stream of blue energy emitting from the symbols Cato had been looking at. The child’s eyes were closed and he didn’t seem to hear Din at all._ _

__Before Din could decide what to do, the familiar faint roar of a ship’s engines caught his attention. Looking up, a ship descended from the clouds, flying down into the valley to land._ _

__“Times up, we gotta get out of here,” Din turned back to Cato and Grogu, his heart sinking slightly at the prospect of getting them both off the plateau. He went over to Cato first, hoping to snap him out of whatever was happening. It would be much easier to make a getaway if he didn’t have to worry about dragging Cato’s unconscious body. Din took a deep breath and crouched down, trying not to think of the pain that had come last time. “Cato—,”_ _

__Once again, white-hot pain shot through Din, forcing him to withdraw his touch._ _

__“ _Fuck_ ,” Din cursed under his breath, looking Cato over for any change. _ _

__Nothing. Cato’s blank, white eyes just gazed eerily up at the sky, unblinking and unyielding. He was unmoving, save the steady rise and fall of his chest, which was really the only comfort Din had at the moment. He was alive. He was still alive._ _

__“Okay, kid,” Din turned to Grogu, still encapsulated in the field of energy. “You have to stop, we need to leave. I need you to help me wake up Cato,” no response._ _

__Din took a couple hesitant steps towards the seeing stone, wondering if the strange blue energy field would bring him the same pain. Then, glancing over his shoulder and knowing that someone was on their way, Din knew it didn’t matter._ _

__He turned back to Grogu and reached out to grab him, only to be met with resistance as his hands met the energy field._ _

__Din looked down at his hands for a moment, bewildered, but then pushed past the wonder and tried again. This time, he didn’t stop when he was met with resistance, pushing into the field to reach Grogu._ _

__Din had just enough time to process a crackling sound filling the air before he was thrown back unexpectedly, flying through the air to crash heavily into the ground at the base of one of the tall stones._ _

__With a groan, Din got to his feet and seeing no difference in Cato or Grogu, tried again only to be met with the same results._ _

__Din got to his feet after being thrown across the circle for the second time and went over to the edge of the plateau, looking down at the landed ship. Using the vision enhancements on his helmet, Din was able to get a clear image of a shadowy figure stepping off the ship and looking up towards the peak of the mountain. Knowing what he had to do, he drew his blaster from his hip and looked back at Grogu. “I’ll see if I can buy you some time,” he said, unsure if the child could hear him. “Can you please hurry up?” he requested. “And...help Cato if he needs it,” He added, looking over to the crumpled form of Cato, _kaysh kar’ta_. _ _

__Fuck, he did not like the idea of leaving the two alone while Cato was in unknown conditions. At least no one could get Grogu inside the energy field, but Cato…_ _

__“I’ll be back,” He promised, tearing his gaze away from his family and heading down the mountain._ _

__☀︎︎_ _

__Sand whipped around Cato in a frenzy, obscuring his vision beyond shifting clouds of burnt yellows and oranges. The grains pelted his skin, scraping and stinging it as the storm raged around him, swallowing all senses._ _

__Cato put a hand up to shield his eyes as he peered into the storm, trying to make out anything in the whirling clouds of sand and dust. He looked around desperately, searching for something— _anything_ —to guide him in some sort of direction. But the sandstorm yielded nothing. _ _

__“Hello?” He croaked, the words coming out rasped and strangled as the moment he opened his mouth, the dry air tore into him, stealing his breath and tearing at his throat. He coughed at the intrusive dryness, but that only worsened it. “Hello?” he called again. He was overcome by another wave of coughing, the action feeling like sandpaper along the insides of his throat and lungs._ _

__Cato dropped to one knee, seeking some shelter from the unrelenting sand. He could feel something on his lower lip. Tentatively, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. It came away bloody._ _

__A spear of panic drove into him at the sight of his blood on his hand, memories from the arena and the girl he had killed, of Aezaeli and her crew of slavers, of the lives he had taken and mangled so carelessly flashed through his mind._ _

__A hand on his shoulder startled him and when he looked back he fell back in shock after finding himself face to face with himself._ _

__His duplicate stared at him intently, blue eyes searching his face. Then, a slow smile curved across his features and he squeezed Cato’s shoulder firmly. He spoke something then, the language foreign to Cato’s ears but oddly beautiful._ _

__“W-what?” Cato asked, blinking up at his duplicate._ _

__The smile grew, and Mirror-Cato leaned in closer. Cato shivered as he felt the duplicate’s breath on his neck while he leaned in to whisper in Cato’s ear. “There is no running,” He murmured. “I am the end,”_ _

__Cato leaned away from the mirror version of himself who was still smiling as if he’d told Cato a pleasant secret. “Who are you?” Cato asked. “Where am I?”_ _

__Mirror-Cato leaned back and regarded Cato coolly and spread his arms slightly. “I am you,” he said with a shrug. Then the grin returned, this time more sinister. “Or more accurately, I am your _potential_ ,” _ _

__“Yeah, I’d like to speak to the potential version of me that is _dead_ ,” Cato said dryly, inching away. “I think that if you’re my potential, there’s a _much_ higher chance of you being a corpse than a living person,” _ _

__Mirror-Cato laughed and stood up, now towering over Cato who was still kneeling on the gorun. “I am your _full_ potential. I am everything you could be,” he gestured to himself and Cato took in the black and grey robes and the pieces of black armour that his mirror self adorned. Mirror-Cato tilted his head as Cato looked him over, a satisfied smile on his face. “I am the culmination of your power,” _ _

__Cato laughed at that. It hurt and was short lived, but he actually managed to laugh. “I don’t have any power, not anymore,” He gestured to himself. “And even if I did, I was never very powerful. So the _culmination_ of my power is...well, shit,” he gave a tight lipped and sarcastic smile to his duplicate. _ _

__The air in Cato’s lungs suddenly seemed to be snuffed out and he found himself gasping for a breath that would not come. His hands scrabbled uselessly at his throat, searching for the thing causing the restriction, though he knew he would find nothing._ _

__Old memories he repressed into the furthest reaches of his mind surfaced through hazy thoughts. Dark hallways lit by harsh lights, small cells with smooth walls that gave away no exit. A black cloaked figure standing over him, helmet obscuring his face while he choked the life from Cato, searching for answers that Cato could not and would not give. Waking up on the floor in front of a throne and filled with icy terror._ _

__Cato fell forwards, catching himself on his hands for a moment before crumpling completely to the sandy ground. Black spots danced in his vision and he writhed and twitched on the ground, searching for an end to his torment._ _

__With his fading vision, Cato saw the mirror version of himself crouch by him, looking at him with mild curiosity. Cato saw him flick two fingers to the side slightly and Cato was thrown onto his back by some invisible force._ _

__Mirror-Cato peered down at him with falsely sympathetic eyes. “Your power— _our_ power—is more than you could ever imagine. But only _I_ can wield it.” He said haughtily, allowing the breath to slowly drain back into Cato. “Become me. _Become_ your potential,” _ _

__The sandstorm around them suddenly got worse, the sands whipping around them biting at them and causing both of them to shield their faces against the flying grains._ _

__Cato wheezed, rolling onto his side and squeezing his eyes shut. He slowly began to try to regain his footing, pushing himself up onto one knee, hand shielding his eyes._ _

__His duplicate was gone. Vanished into the storm without a trace._ _

__“Hey!” he shouted hoarsely. “Hey!” he stumbled to his feet, looking around in the storm wildly._ _

___I just need answers_. He thought to himself desperately. _ _

__“Answers that I have,” a new voice behind Cato said, soft and whispering over the roar of the sandstorm._ _

__He turned around, unsure of what to expect. Standing just behind him was a woman made of shifting grains of sand. She trailed her fingers up Cato’s arm to rest her hand on his cheek, her touch feeling surprising solid and smooth, though cool. She smiled dreamily, blank eyes somehow conveying so much love and serenity. The pad of her thumb brushed over his cheek and it was only now that Cato realised that the storm had retreated some, leaving them in a small eye of peace._ _

__“Who are you?” He asked hesitantly, though unafraid._ _

__The woman smiled and stepped forward, now holding Cato’s face with both hands as she looked at him with such adoration. “You know me,” she whispered, close enough Cato could feel her warm breath fanning across his face._ _

__His eyes fluttered closed, leaning into her touch. “Kemuria,” he murmured._ _

__He felt her smile as her lips brushed over his, her touch no longer feeling cool, but warm and living. His hands found their way to her back, one gently running through her long, soft hair and the other holding her at the small of her back, keeping them close. He looked through his lashes at her, her brown eyes flitting up to meet his for a moment before looking back down again with a small smile._ _

__Words formed on Cato’s tongue, but whatever they were, they never left him as they melted into oblivion when Kemuria placed her lips over Cato’s._ _

__Cato’s mind went blank as she kissed him, only aware of _her_. Her soft touch as she held his face in her hands, softly. The pads of her fingers pressed into his cheeks and jaw, pulling him closer, lovingly. She drowned his senses in her, keeping him close with a firm hand. She kept their mouths fitted together, their bodies tangled together, with her strong grip. Her possessive grip. _ _

__Using every ounce of willpower he had, Cato pulled back, though they remained pressed together, foreheads resting gently against one another. “I need answers,” Cato whispered breathlessly, looking down at the flawless being that was Kemuria._ _

__She smiled and looked up at Cato with a soft gaze. She brushed some of his errant curls out of his eyes before going back to cupping his face. “I have your answers,” She whispered, her soothing voice easing Cato’s eyes shut again. He couldn’t help it, he always felt so...at peace with her. She was his serenity, capable of easing any of his worries. “What do you need to know?” She asked, so close that he could feel her lips brushing against his when she spoke._ _

__“I—,” Cato faltered for a moment. _What did I need to know?_ He wondered. Then it all came back. The sickness, he needed to know how to cure it. “The sickness,” He murmured. “I...how do I cure it?” he asked. _ _

__Kemuria hummed. “Death is a natural part of life,” she breathed, pressing gentle kisses along Cato’s jaw. “Sometimes it cannot be avoided,”_ _

__“Yes, but I have duties to attend to,” He said, trying to make her understand, though it was difficult to focus when she was this close to him._ _

__“Like what?” She questioned._ _

__“Like...like…” Cato stumbled over his words, his mind falling short as Kemuria pressed another kiss against his lips._ _

__When she pulled back several long seconds later, she gazed up at Cato meeting his cloudy gaze. “Like what?” She repeated._ _

__Cato shook his head, at a loss. “I...nothing,”_ _

__A smile spread across her perfect lips and she ran her hands down his neck and across his shoulders. “Death is a natural part of life, and sometimes the only way to change that fate is to follow those who have already done it,” She whispered lovingly. “I can show you the way, if you show me devotion,” She promised, pressing a short kiss to his lips again. “I can show you how to escape your death, but you _must_ listen to me,” her eyes were serious as she looked up at him this time. “If you don’t, I cannot promise your salvation,” Cato nodded blearily, head filled with clouds in the aftermath of her kisses. “Compliance will save you, while disobedience will only lead to death,” _ _

__A frown momentarily formed on Cato’s lips. That sounded...familiar. Had someone said that to him before? Had he talked about this with Kemuria before? He must have._ _

__“What do you think?” She asked, resting her cheek against Cato’s shoulder and absently playing a lock of his hair. “Will you let me save you?”_ _

__Cato was about to answer when another consciousness touched his mind. He recoiled at the contact and tried to block it out, but already the thoughts and feelings were pouring into his mind, concepts, images, and raw emotion twisting to form a single idea that managed to push straight to the core of Cato's being._ _

___**Help.** _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> Kaysh kar'ta: his heart
> 
>  **Cato the moment he wakes up** : *remembers kissing a sand lady* *visible confusion in gay* 
> 
> Anywayyyyys Cato is losing it, thank fuck for Baby Gogurt. Pain and misery yet to come!
> 
> Enjoy! And thank you all so much for sticking around and continuing to read this chaotic shipwreck of a story!


	27. XXVI: The Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go guys, the dreaded moment.

Cato’s eyes flew open and before he had time to take in his surroundings in the slightest, he had rolled over onto his side, opening his mouth to spit out what seemed like an impossible amount of sand onto the dirt beside him. His throat burned and the inside of his mouth felt as dry as a desert—which made sense considering the sand. 

But Cato didn’t have time to dwell on any of that as a worried coo drew his attention. 

Still on the seeing stone, though laying down on his side now, was Grogu, his eyes locked on Cato despite them being heavy with exhaustion and one small hand outstretched towards him, shaking with strain. 

“Grogu,” Cato rasped, hurrying to stand up as strange dark shapes approached them from the sky. His legs shook and felt like jello, but Cato ignored it and was dragging himself towards Grogu before he was even on his feet. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him, and every muscle in his body felt bruised and spent, his limbs heavy and mind cloudy. 

The four dark shapes landed around them with a heavy thud and Cato realised they were droids. Tall, black armoured droids with glowing red eyes and exaggerated forms. In perfect sync with each other, they took a step forwards and down onto the sunken circle.

Cato was only a few steps away when his vision swam, the world warping around him and making his stomach turn. He felt his legs give out and he crashed to the ground, breaking his fall only enough to avoid smacking his head into the stone beneath him. 

The sinister marches of the droids drew nearer, and Cato struggled to get back onto his feet, but his body wouldn’t listen to him. He tried to force himself to stand, crawl even, but he couldn’t do it. 

Heaving painful breaths, Cato dragged himself almost to the base of the stone, reaching up to grab Grogu. He had to protect him. He had to keep him safe. He would protect him, even if it meant dying. His fingers brushed against the child’s and he felt a faint wash of relief. 

But that was all snatched away as a looming shadow lifted Grogu away from him and an iron grip on the back of Cato’s neck yanked him away from the stone. 

Cato coughed and groaned in pain as he landed on his back, a pulse of throbbing pain going through his head as he hit the ground. “Grogu,” He croaked, squinting against the light as he looked up into the expressionless face of one of the droids. Cato rolled onto his side, trying to find the strength to it up. He _needed_ to sit up. He had to find Grogu, he had to get him. He had to get him out of here. 

Cold, steel fingers wrapped around Cato’s arms, dragging him unceremoniously to his feet. 

“Hey!” he snapped, though it came out as a weak garble. He looked around wildly, locating Grogu instantly in the arms of another droid. “Grogu!” he tried to pull his arms out of the grip of the two droids that held him, but it felt like trying to drag an entire starship with just a rope. “Hey!” Cato thrashed and tugged relentlessly, looking around wildly for anything to help him. 

He spotted his lightsaber sitting on the sash a couple yards away where he had been a minute ago, laying with his other weapons. It felt like it was taunting him. Cato looked around for any alternatives, and seeing the droids starting to power up for flight turned back to the lightsaber. “Come on, come on,” he whispered desperately under his breath, focusing on the lightsaber. “You can do it, come on,” 

A loud roar filled his ears and he felt a familiar seer of heat just shy of uncomfortable as the droids lifted a couple inches off the ground suddenly. Cato was suddenly lifted by one of the droids, arms pinned painfully behind his back as they started to rise. 

“ _Fuck_!” Cato hissed angrily as his saber remained unmoving on the ground, growing steadily farther and farther away. Five feet, ten feet, fifteen—

“Cato!” 

“Din,” Cato wheezed, chest starting to hurt at the position he was being held in. “Din!” He tried again, but they were already so high up and climbing fast, he wasn’t sure if Din had heard him. He looked over to the droid directly across from him, seeing Grogu in its arms. “I’m sorry,” He whispered, knowing neither of them could hear him. Din was already a tiny speck on the top of the mountain and growing smaller by the second. 

Clouds blew past them as they rose, moisture clinging to Cato and chilling him, though he didn’t notice it through the frustration. He couldn’t do _anything _. Even if he could fight these things‚ which is his state he clearly couldn't—he had no way to get to Grogu. And if he did, they were already so far up, they would just plummet to their deaths. _Fuck!_ __

__The air grew thinner and Cato’s head started to feel light. He thought he maybe saw a ship below them, but he couldn’t trust himself to be sure. He hoped Din was okay. He didn’t know what had happened after he tried meditating and when he had woken up everything had happened so quickly...but if Din hadn’t been with him, it must have meant there was a threat elsewhere. Cato hoped he wasn’t hurt._ _

__Wait...had someone else been with him? Cato wracked his memory, trying to picture the moment from a few seconds ago. Had he been standing with someone else?_ _

___Fuck fuck fuck! Useless fucking brain!_ Cato seethed, his memories even from a minute ago already hazy. _ _

__A shadow stretched over them and Cato looked up for the first time, alarmed to see a version of an Imperial cruiser awaiting them above. _No no no nonono!_ Panic built in his chest and he looked over at Grogu, unable to see clearly as his eyes watered with the wind. _Fuck!_ _ _

__The droids slowed and the trajectory shifted, and without warning, Cato was hit with heavy oxygen as they entered the ship._ _

__The droids landed without so much as a stumble on the sleek floors, the droid holding Cato almost immediately dropping him back into a standing position. The second droid from earlier stepped to the other side of him and together, started marching Cato towards one of the two hallways off the hangar._ _

__Cato looked over his shoulder to find Grogu, and saw him being carried towards the other hallway by one of the droids, the fourth one in tow._ _

__“Stop it,” Cato mumbled, panic and pain washing over him as he was walked away from the child. As the gravity of what was happening set in, Cato managed to dig out any remaining energy and writhed and struggled against the iron grip the droids had on him, trying to get to the kid. He tried to kick the droids away from him, to get a handle on their wiring, to twist out of their grip, anything, anything at all. “Bring him back! Let him go!” he demanded, finding his voice even though it caused his head to throb in pain. Cato lunged to the side, ripping himself out of the hold the droid had on his shoulders and ducking between his two escorts._ _

__He made it a pitiful five steps towards Grogu when the droids grabbed him again with such force that it felt like he had just run into a wall. Cato scrambled to escape their trapping arms, trying to duck under them or pull himself out, but their grip was inescapable._ _

__“Stop it! Let me go! Bring him back, bring him _back_!” Cato screamed. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill every last one of you!” he grunted in pain as his arms were harshly yanked behind his back and held there, and all the while he could see Grogu getting further away. “Bring him _back_!” he shouted one last time before the two droids and Grogu were gone and Cato was being dragged backwards towards his own fate. _ _

__Cato kept struggling, doing everything he could think of to get out of this situation and go find Grogu. He didn’t have a choice, there wasn’t any other option, he _had_ to find him and save him. He had to protect him, he had to he had to he had to. But even as he told himself that, he felt any remaining traces of energy drain from him. _ _

__Hallways passed in a blur, Cato barely aware of time passing, only of the fragmented and looped thoughts running through his mind. The sounds around him were muffled, sounding quiet and indistinct, a high pitched ringing in his ears the only discernible sound._ _

__“Cato Dazhyn, I don’t believe we were ever properly introduced,” the familiar voice that Cato now knew belonged to Moff Gideon came to greet him as the droids came to a stop, jolting him back to the present._ _

__Cato was kneeling on the floor of a hallway, his arms held at a painful angle behind his back and Moff Gideon himself in front of Cato, looking down at him with a cold smile._ _

__“The child,” Cato rasped. “Take me to him,” he demanded._ _

__Gideon scoffed quietly, his smile growing. “That’s not how this works,” He said. “You have your own fate to meet here,”_ _

__Cato’s stomach twisted at his words and a heavy blanket of dread washed over him. “Am I here to die?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady._ _

__“No,” Gideon said calmly. “You are here because certain people are invested in your future and what you can do for ours,” Cato didn’t like the sound of that. Gideon leaned over Cato a little, tilting his head as he stared down at him. “You possess extraordinary abilities, Cato. You are able to resist and come back from things few people can,” Moff Gideon looked over Cato’s face intently, making Cato's discomfort grow. “We want to see how far you can be pushed before you fall,”_ _

__The droid holding Cato yanked him to his feet without warning, drawing a small grunt of pain from the man. Cato’s breaths were growing shorter and he struggled to maintain a state of semi-calmness. “So you’re going to torture me,” he said, his mouth feeling dry as the words left his tongue._ _

__Behind Moff Gideon, a door slid open revealing the plain interior of an empty room. Gideon made a welcoming gesture and Cato was pushed forwards a couple steps before being shoved roughly into the dimly lit room, just barely breaking his fall with his hands._ _

__“ _I_ won’t torture you,” He said. Cato picked himself up off the ground to face him, wondering if he could attack him right now. “I’ve found someone who has a _great_ deal invested in your suffering,” _ _

__Movement in the corner drew Cato’s attention and he watched apprehensively as a figure stepped from the shadow and into the light._ _

__As their features came into the light, Cato swore his heart stopped for a moment._ _

__A red haired woman stood before Cato now, her straight hair still cropped just above the shoulder, though now one side was cleanly shaven. She no longer wore scavenged armour either, now dressed in crisp black clothes, giving her an even more foreboding aura. The most noticeable change to her though were the thin, mirrored scars on her face, extending from the corners of her mouth along her cheeks towards her ears, making an image of a twisted and scarred smile._ _

__Her thin lips twisted into a cold smile and her silver eyes flashed. “Hello Cato,” she greeted calmly, though a gleeful smugness was present in her tone. “I’ve waited a _long_ time for this,” Cato stared in horror at her as she regarded him with thinly veiled triumph. “Do you remember me?” _ _

__The name caught in his throat as fear closed in around him and bile rose in his throat at the prospect of paying for his past. He swallowed hard, and finally managed to speak, her name leaving his lips in a hoarse, disbelieving whisper that hid none of his fear._ _

__“Aezaeli,”_ _

__☀︎︎_ _

__Trask was just as overcast and busy as last time Din had been there. He stepped off of the _Slave I_ , looking around with a heavy feeling in his chest and after telling Shand and Fett that he would be back in a moment, he set off towards the industrial shipping yard._ _

__There was a horrible hollowness that was consuming him as more time passed. He _let_ this happen. He shouldn’t have left Cato and Grogu. He should have gotten back to them in time. They shouldn’t have gone to Tython. He was supposed to protect them, Grogu was his charge, he had been tasked with returning the child to his people safely and now he was with Moff Gideon who was conducting experiments. And Cato...Din had promised that he would be there for Cato through everything, keep him from harm and Din had done neither of those. _ _

__Grogu’s fate with Moff Gideon filled Din with anger and sadness, the idea of the child being used for experiments making Din curl his hands into fists to contain the flare of anger he felt. Cato’s fate on the other hand left a void of dread in his chest. He didn’t know what Cato would face at the hands of Moff Gideon and the speculations he had come up with made his stomach twist._ _

__The storage yard was devoid of people as Din wound through the shipping crates, trying to shut out his thoughts and the sickening feelings that plagued him. The crates loomed all around him, casting shadows over the gravel ground._ _

__A couple times, Din thought he heard someone move up ahead or over the tops of the crates, but when he looked there was no one._ _

__Keeping his senses on high alert, he walked through the maze of crates, retracing his steps towards the open space by the water where he had found Cato last time they were here._ _

__When he reached the open space, he found no one there. The whole shipping yard seemed dead and desolate, devoid of life._ _

__There was the crunch of gravel behind him and he looked over his shoulder, seeing someone standing in the shadow of the crates. Din turned around fully to face them, hand hovering over his blaster._ _

__A Quarren stood by the crates, holding a hooked spear at the ready and looking at Din coldly. “Why are you here, Mandalorian?” they growled. “This yard and docks are private. You need to leave,”_ _

__“Wait,” Din raised his hands slightly. “Wait, I’m looking for Senaar,” he said. “Can you bring me to her?”_ _

__The Quarren looked Din up and down and lowered the spear, but kept it at the ready. Then he turned and began walking away, not speaking a word._ _

__Din hesitated a moment, but then followed, keeping a bit of distance between him and the Quarren._ _

__The journey was quick—or maybe it just felt that way to Din since he couldn’t think properly right now. The Quarren had led him to a massive shipping crate with an odd spider-like symbol stamped on the side. Inside the crate, it had been pitch black until a trap door opened in the floor and led into a network of tunnels beneath the ground._ _

__The Quarren had led Din through the tunnels to a massive set of blast doors with two guards stationed out front. The Quarren spoke with the guards briefly, gesturing at Din. Then the guards stepped aside and the blast doors slid open, revealing a massive room filled with crates, tables, digital maps, computer banks, and on the opposite wall a massive throne on a tall dais all made of scrap metal, faded and tattered banners hanging behind it. The largest banner was the same rust red and white of the exterior of the crate they had entered through, a more intricate version of the spider design printed on it. The smaller two on either side were different colours and featured symbols Din couldn’t decipher from here and didn’t care to._ _

__As he entered, the people moving around the massive room all turned to look at him, moving up to watch as he walked towards the base of the throne, where lounging on the massive sculpture of metal was Adrestia._ _

__“Mandalorian,” she stood up as Din approached and descended the steps of the dais, waving off the onlookers. “I wondered when you would come by,” she smiled as she approached, her brown eyes searching him up and down. She looked past him and her brow furrowed, her eyes darting around the room._ _

__Din felt his stomach knot up with anxiety as her warmer expression melted off and gave way to a suspicious one, eyes narrowed._ _

__She brought her gaze back to him, eyes locked on his, even through the dark visor of his helmet._ _

__“Where is Cato?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP the _Razor Crest_ :(
> 
> Aezaeli is back and she is PISSED. Which for those of you who do not remember, Aezaeli is a person from Cato's past (she appears in the bonus chapters published in "When We Were Strangers". The chapter with her is titled: Motok, Cyrkon) who had attempted to sell Cato to the Empire while he was on Cyrkon about three days after he and Din left Kappa V. Cato killed two members of her crew and maimed her and the remaining two (though one of her crew did escape the entire bloodbath unscathed bc he was not there). So now she has returned, working with Gideon and is gonna enjoy tormenting Cato. 
> 
> On the other hand, Din went to Adrestia, so now the leader (though Cara may force her to be co-leader) of the "Lesbians for Cato's Protection" squad is now joining the party. 
> 
> Cato is not going to have time to process things. He basically has been sliding down the side of a mountain this entire season/book and last episode he just fell off a cliff. He has since landed, but the ground is gonna shatter underneath him before he can get his footing. So, yay! 
> 
> Next chapter will be that it is mostly from the perspectives of Din & Adrestia, though it seems likely I will have some sections be focused on Cato. 
> 
> Moving forward, there is a pretty overarching warning for violence (specifically torture) on sections/chapters focused on Cato. As stated in the beginning of the book, warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter that it applies to, but just as a note from here until the end it's pretty violence heavy. 
> 
> Also, not completely happy with this chapter, feels a little disjointed, but maybe that works??? Idk, let me know. Regardless of whether or not it works, I'll probably end up rewriting portions of it to fix the flow.


	28. XXVII: The Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces are set in motion; loyalty, values, and hope are tested.

Adrestia stood, hefting her glaive from where it sat propped against the wall of the _Slave I_. She swung it onto her back and glanced over at the Mandalorian who was staring at the ground, silent, just as he had been for most of the journey aside from explaining what had happened and the plan they had come up with. 

Adrestia nodded for Fennec and Boba to head on out and meet Cara, they’d be there in a moment. Then with a sigh, she walked over to the Mandalorian standing beside him, unsure of how to properly comfort him. 

“I don’t blame you, you know,” She said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. He didn’t say anything, but she heard him shift and when she looked over, he was looking at her. “I don’t blame you for what happened to Cato,” she clarified. “And your kid,” She added, her gaze drifting to land on something across the ship. “I don’t know you very well, and I haven’t seen my brother since before the war, but I _know him_. And I know he loves you,” she glanced over at him to see if this was news to him and she had just ruined her brother’s poorly kept secret. But he didn’t react in any particular way that led her to believe he didn’t already know. “I don’t know if you were listening when we caught up back on Trask, but he wouldn’t shut up about you,” she rolled her eyes. “He loves you, and I’ve seen the way you are around him. I can tell you love him too. I know you didn’t let this happen, I know you tried.”

She pulled her lips into a wry smile. “And now we are going to get him back. We’ll get him and the kid back and we’ll make them pay,” She promised. “But you’ve gotta have your head on if we’re gonna do it. So come on, let’s go scare the shit out of this guy you imprisoned,” She clapped a hand on his shoulder, trying to gauge if she had just overstepped a boundary. The Mandalorian didn’t react and Adrestia headed towards the ramp. 

“Thank you,” 

Adrestia half turned around to see the Mandalorian looking at her. She gave a grin in response and a firm nod. “It’s the truth. Besides, can’t let my brother-in-law mope all day. Cato would kill me,” she smirked and turned back around, descending off the ship a couple steps ahead of the Mandalorian. 

“—thought you were this other guy,” the prisoner they were taking was saying to Boba Fett. 

The other Mandalorian and the assassin both looked up towards Mando and Adrestia as they descended and Adrestia watched the look of fear cross the man’s face as he looked at the beskar clad warrior. 

Adrestia stepped to the side by Fennec as the Mandalorian walked up to the prisoner, watching him carefully. 

“Mayfeld,” the Mandalorian greeted evenly. 

“Hey, Mando,” Mayfeld said, not looking up into the face of the impassive beskar helmet. “Long time,” He added. “What, come here to kill me?” He asked. “Look, if this about the whole selling your boy toy off to imps, that wasn’t my idea—,” 

Adrestia narrowed her eyes at him, hand coming to rest on her glaive, preparing to swing it off her back. 

“All you need to know is I bent a lot of rules to bring you along,” Cara interrupted sharply. 

Mayfeld looked them over suspiciously, then finally back at the Mandalorian. “Why am I so lucky?” He asked. 

“Because you're Imperial,” Cara answered coldly. 

“Hey, that was a long time ago, alright?” 

“But you still know your Imperial clearances and protocols, don't you?” The Mandalorian asked. 

Mayfeld didn’t answer, telling them what they all needed to know. Cara and the Mandalorian turned and headed back onto the ship, Fennec and Boba following suit and leading the way. 

Adrestia stayed behind a moment longer, watching as Mayfeld looked back into the scrap yards and sighed before walking up to the ramp. He jumped as Adrestia wrapped an arm around his shoulders, squeezing a little too hard. “So,” She said, leading him up into the ship. “Tell me about these plans to sell Cato to Imperial remnants,” She demanded, a sweet smile on her face that did nothing to hide the venom and anger roiling in her words. “Tell me _all_ about them,” 

☀︎︎

“So,” Adrestia sighed, sliding down the wall to sit beside the Madalorian. “Morak, huh?” She asked. 

After leaving with Mayfeld and determining their next destination, the group had broken apart. Cara had gone to advise on the best routes to avoid New Republic interference and Fennec and Mayfeld remained in the bay with a tense silence. Meanwhile, the Mandalorian had slipped off to a hidden corner on the ship to be alone. At least until Adrestia walked up. 

The Mandalorian gave a short nod, barely acknowledging her presence. 

Adrestia sighed lightly and rested her elbows on her knees. “I know…” She trailed off and huffed. “There was something about Cato on Trask,” She started over. “We talked and it was obvious he’s had a hard life. We all have had far from pleasant experiences. But...there was something else. Something wrong with him,” She looked over at the Mandalorian. “I’ve seen people who have had horrendous things done to them, I know the look in their eye and the way they hold themselves. I saw that with Cato—I see that with you,” she hesitated, searching for the words. “But...there was something else. Something...dark. I could see it in his eyes every once in a while,” she elaborated. 

The Mandalorian shifted slightly to look at her for a moment. Then he sighed and looked away and back down at the floor again. “He’s sick,” he answered after a moment of silence. “It’s a weird Jedi plague…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know about these things.” He said miserably. “But it hurts him. Makes him confused. He forgets things, sees things, it…” the Mandalorian paused for a moment, seeming to struggle with the explanation. “It...it’s corrupting him,” He said hesitantly, seeming unsure of his choice in words. “Some days are worse than others. Sometimes he’s like...he’s happy, at ease. He’ll smile, and talk, and joke,” 

Adrestia felt a small pang in her heart at the adoration and love in the Mandalorian’s voice, the raw display of emotions sparking similar memories of someone Adrestia had tried desperately to forget about. 

“But other days…” The warrior’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of his pain clearly written in his body language. “Other days I look into his eyes and don’t see him there. And when he returns, he’s confused and scared. I see his hands shaking and the pain on his face. And the hatred when he doesn’t—,” The Mandalorian’s voice broke and Adrestia felt a little guilty for making him recount all this to her. “When he doesn’t recognise me. Doesn’t recognise either of us,” 

Silence stretched for a few moments and when Adrestia decided he wasn’t going to share anything else with her, she offered a smile that probably came off as more of a grimace and a single pat on the forearm. “I’m sorry. I know thinking about those memories is hard—especially under these circumstances. I...I had a friend...it was a little different with him. But at times they wouldn't recognise us and wouldn’t trust us, even if we were just trying to help,” she grimaced again at the memories. “I’m grateful you told me,” she offered gently. “We’ll get him and the kid back and we’ll find a way to help him,” she promised. 

Typically Adrestia wasn’t one to make promises, knowing all too well how easy they were to break. But this was one she made with no second guessing, even if it was to a man she barely knew and didn’t even know the name of. This was a promise she was determined to keep. 

“Hey,” Adrestia started at Cara’s voice, looking over to see the woman leaning against the wall several yards away. “We’re approaching Morak. Time to gear up,” she said, nodding her head back towards the bay. 

Adrestia nodded and stood up, walking past Cara and heading back to the bay without waiting for the Mandalorian. 

“I did an initial scan of the planet,” Boba Fett said as they all gathered in the bay around a hologram of the planet. “This is what you’re talking about, right?” he asked Mayfeld, manipulating the hologram so it zoomed in to show a processing plant set up on a river. 

“Yeah, that’s the refinery right there,” Mayfeld confirmed. 

Adrestia looked it over skeptically, trying to determine any immediate weak spots from the hologram. 

“I wonder what they're refining in there,” Fennec spoke up, voicing Adrestia’s similar thoughts. 

Boba looked over the schematics, clearly able to see something Adrestia couldn’t. “Looks like rhydonium. Highly volatile and explosive,” he said. 

“Yeah, kinda like this one, huh?” Mayfeld chuckled, gesturing at Cara. Adrestia looked at him with cold eyes and he quickly looked away as no one reacted to his joke. 

“They have anti-aircraft cannons protecting it,” Boba continued on with the breakdown. 

“And a platoon of security forces,” Fennec noted. 

Adrestia stepped closer to the hologram, looking at the base of the refinery. She had done her fair share of breaking into various bases, warehouses, and plants and without a doubt service entrance were her favourite. 

“What are you looking for, _Senaar’ika_? There are no tunnels for you to slink around in,” Boba commented, a teasing note to his voice that made Adrestia narrow her eyes at him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but remained focused on the hologram. “Don’t sound so surprised. I may have been dead, but I know all about you and your tactics,” he explained easily. “Or rather, I know your teacher,” He added offhandedly. 

“Then you know what happens to people who patronise me,” Adrestia answered icily. 

“Focus,” the Mandalorian said sharply, stepping between Boba and Adrestia. “So, we go in quiet,” he summed up. “Let’s go get a closer look,” He decided.

☀︎︎

The six of them stood on a rocky outcropping of rock overlooking a well used dirt road that led through a tunnel. 

Adrestia was crouched in the font at the edge of the rocks, looking down at the armoured vehicle moving towards the tunnel. 

“I’m not gonna need long inside,” Mayfeld said as they watched the transport roll into the tunnel. “So once I get the coordinates you guys gotta get me the hell outta there,”

“You get to the roof. I’ll drop in and pull you out,” Boba suggested. 

“Alright,” Cara agreed. “Mayfeld and I will swap out for the drivers in the tunnel,” 

“As much as I’d like to take a roadtrip with Rebel-Dropper here, that’s not gonna work,” Mayfeld objected immediately. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Cara challenged. 

Mayfeld sighed. “Well, because these Remnant bases are all set up and run by ex-ISB.” he pointed out. “If you get scanned and your genetic signature shows up on any New Republic register, you're gonna be detected and it’s guns out,” 

“You sure do know a lot about Imperial Remnants,” Cara noted pointedly. 

“If you wanna accuse me of something, then just say it,” Mayfeld snapped irritably. 

“We don’t have time for this,” The Mandalorian interrupted the brewing fight. “Fennec will go,” He said, gesturing to the assassin. 

Fennec shook her head. “No, I’m wanted by ISB. I’ll trip the alarm too,” 

The Mandalorian sighed. “Alright, Adrestia can go.” He decided. 

Adrestia huffed out a dry laugh. “I’m a vet turned criminal who has been hunting down Imperial Remnants for three years. They’ll spot me a mile away,” 

“Fett?” 

The green armoured Mandalorian looked over at the silver armoured one. “Let’s just say they might recognise my face,” He commented dryly. 

Adrestia snickered, having had a few encounters with the clone troopers with whom Boba shared a face. 

“Great,” Mayfeld muttered sarcastically. “So it’s me goin’ in alone,” 

“The minute he gets inside he’ll tip ‘em off. He’ll be a hero,” Cara growled. 

“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” Mayfeld protested. “I’m doin’ you guys a favour,” 

Cara scoffed. “Deal’s off. I’m takin’ him back,” 

“I’ll go,” The Mandalorian interrupted. 

Adrestia looked over at him, confused. Cato had briefly mentioned—more like hinted at—that he was part of a different sect that all took a vow of anonymity outside their covert, telling their names only to a select few and never showing their faces. This seemed like a pretty big breach of code.

“Hey, buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards,” Mayfled commented. “So unless you're goin’ to take off that helmet, it’s gonna be me goin’ in alone. Or say goodbye to your little green friend and your boy—,” Mayfeld caught Adrestia’s cold stare and dropped his sentence. “Your, uh...friend,” 

“You're not going in alone. I’m coming with you,” The Mandalorian stated. “But I won’t be showing my face,”

☀︎︎

Cato’s head throbbed with pain as he cracked open his eyes, harsh lights feeling abrasive and sharp against his vision. He groaned, his head lolling back to rest against whatever was behind him. The faint metallic taste of blood in his mouth made him instinctively reach for his face, trying to find the source of the blood. But he found himself unable to move his hands and he noticed the familiar cold bite of steel against his wrists. 

Fear swept in as he realised he was shackled to something—a chair...he was sitting up...right?—and the memory of Aezaeli’s promise to make him suffer. He forced himself to open his eyes, ignoring the sharp pain of the lights. The world was blurry around him, but it came into focus after a few seconds. 

He was alone in the same room he had been brought to, shackled to a chair in the center of the floor. The room was deafeningly quiet, only Cato’s own sharp breaths and rapid heart rate audible. Where were they? What had happened? The last thing he remembered…

He wracked his mind, trying to remember what had happened before he woke up. What was it? He had been on Tython, Grogu pulling him out of his strange vision to help him. Cato had failed to save him. He hadn’t been fast enough or strong enough to get to Grogu in time and he had been stupid enough to let himself be sucked into the twisted vision. This was _his_ fault. He knew better than this. He was supposed to know these things, to know the Force and battles alike and yet he had _failed_. And now as a result, Grogu was stars-know-where being used as an _experiment_.

Anger coursed through his veins, sharp and burning like fire. Anger at Gideon and the Empire for taking so much from him—his family, his friends, his peace, and now his new family—and anger at himself. _So much anger_ at himself. He had brought all of this down on himself—on them. He should never have left Kreios, if he hadn’t—no, no, no, this went further back than Kreios. This traced back to Motok when he had first met Aezaeli and Din decided to let him stay. Yeah, that’s it. Cato should have never stayed. If he hadn’t then maybe Din and Grogu would be alright. If he hadn’t been part of the picture, then maybe Din could have gotten Grogu off the planet safely, not having to worry about dragging an unconscious Cato. He could have just taken the kid and jetted off the mountain. 

If he hadn’t stayed then they wouldn’t be worried about him. They wouldn’t be focused on trying to find a cure for him and they wouldn’t be sad when he died. They wouldn’t even know him, he would just be another face in Din’s past, not worth a second glance. 

Yeah, maybe Cato deserved this for bringing such agony into the world. He certainly deserved it for the atrocities he had committed against others. He was just as guilty as the Empire in that regard. Torturing and killing people senselessly and with no repercussions. Until now. 

The door slid open with a hiss and Cato’s skin prickled with anxiety as he realised his back was to the door and he couldn’t see who had entered. He heard the sharp click of footsteps and saw a figure stop just out of his line of sight. 

“Ah, you’re awake,” A new voice said. The person shifted and stepped into Cato’s vision, walking around to face him. He was a thin young man with pale pale skin and hair so blond it almost looked white. He smiled thinly at Cato and reached for something off the floating silver tray at his side. He approached and began to gently clean an small area of skin on the exposed skin of Cato’s upper forearm. 

Cato tried to pull his arm away, but the shackle kept it locked in place. “Who—?” Cato asked, voice scratchy and weak. 

The man looked up and blinked at Cato, revealing that his eyes were a pale and dull blue. “Oh, how rude of me,” He gave an almost robotic smile. “I’m Doctor Umidri,” He introduced. “I’m in charge of your wellbeing and health. You can think of me as your caretaker,” he went back to his work, not waiting for Cato to respond—not that he knew how to. 

Doctor Umidri straightened up and put the used gauze pad on the tray and then lifted a syringe off of it. 

Panic rushed through Cato at the sight and he flinched away from the Doctor’s touch. 

The pale man looked up at Cato with an empty expression. “Do not be afraid,” He chided emotionlessly. “This is a simple injection that will help stabilize your sleep cycles. We have been made aware of your need to take periodic doses of medicine to keep you conscious. This will eliminate that need for longer stretches of time,”

Cato opened his mouth to respond but it quickly turned into a strangled gasp as the needle was plunged into his arm and emptied, spreading what felt like acid through his veins. 

It burned, racing along the length of his arm and up to his chest, which made him convulse and gasp for air as if he’d just been punched in the gut. The pain was astounding and Cato’s whole body tensed up against it. 

_This is good_. He tried to tell himself as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision of the ceiling. This is what he deserved. This is the ending he deserved. This is better than letting him go on hurting people. This is a happy ending. 

☀︎︎

Din hated every second of this mission. He hated that these people were cheering for him and Mayfeld as they arrived, clapping them on the back and congratulating them. These people, who were working for Gideon to restore the Empire that had killed so many of Din’s own people and countless others. These people, who were tied into the whole reason Grogu and Cato had been taken in the first place. The necklace hiding beneath his layers of clothes and armour felt a little heavier at the thought of his missing family. 

He hated this amour, ill fitting, uncomfortable, and completely, totally useless in a fight. His left shoulder still throbbed where he had been hit on the road, the simple blow that would have usually been completely absorbed by his beskar instead shattered the flimsy pauldron and probably left a sizeable bruise on his shoulder by the feel of it. 

And most of all, he hated what he was about to do. The datastick seemed to weigh a million tonnes in his hand as he entered the breakroom, doing a quick sweep and tally of the people present. A bead of sweat traced its way down the side of his face, and his breathing was shorter than usual. 

He located the kiosk in a corner of the room a moment later and headed towards it, noting that it was in an at least partially shadowed corner. One small stroke of good luck perhaps. 

Din stopped in front of the kiosk and took a moment to still the tremor in his hands before reaching up and starting to go through the motions of turning the kiosk on. 

The screen blinked to life a moment later and he squinted against the lights that shone onto the face of the helmet, scanning the piece of armour. 

Two seconds passed agonisingly slow and Din felt like he may break his fingers from how tightly he was clenching his hand while waiting for the scan to process. 

He knew it wouldn’t work. Mayfeld had been perfectly clear, it needed to scan a living face. But Din still felt his heart plummet when the screen blinked red and the automated voice began to speak. “Error. Error. Facial scan incomplete,” Din quickly looked over towards the table, making sure no one had heard or was watching him. But no one seemed to pay him any mind. “Ten seconds to system shutdown,” the computer continued. 

_For Cato and Grogu_. He repeated to himself, lifting the helmet from his head before he couldn think too long about it. 

Din swore his heart was beating so hard it would undoubtedly fail in a moment. Either that, or one of the officers across the room would hear it. Were Imperial officers genetically enhanced in any way? The Empire clearly wasn’t beyond human experimentation, had they given their officers the ability to sense increased heart rates over greater distances? Like say...the length of a room? 

_Focus_. He chided himself, shaking off the flurry of thoughts. 

“—Nine, eight, seven,” the computer continued counting. 

Pressing the same buttons he had last time, Din managed to get the scanner back up before the count hit zero. 

This time, the light seemed even brighter as it scanned him and he had to force himself to not squeeze his eyes shut. He had to do this. It was for his clan. It was for his family. This was okay. He had no choice. 

“Facial scan complete,” The computer announced quietly, startling Din. 

His hands were shaking again as he plugged in the datastick and quickly uploaded the coordinates he needed to it. He was almost done. Almost there, just a few more seconds…

“Trooper!” 

Din felt his insides turn to ice. He didn’t dare turn around and face the officer. _Just a few more seconds_. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the officer stand and start approaching. 

“Hey, trooper,” The officer repeated pointedly, now standing only a couple feet from Din.

The system beeped and Din felt his stomach tie itself in knots as he closed his eyes for a moment before grabbing the datastick and turning around to face the officer squarely. 

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you,” The man sneered, Din noting that this was the officer Mayfeld was trying to avoid. Valin Hess. “What’s your designation?” He asked. 

_Fuck_. Designation? What the hell did that mean? Din swallowed, doing his best to maintain eye contact. This was all _much_ easier when he was wearing a helmet. He felt like the man’s eyes were staring straight through him, rooting around inside him to pluck every one of his secrets from him. “Transport crew,” Din said, hoping that that was the name of a believable designation. 

The officer narrowed his eyes at him. “What?” He asked. 

_Oh no_. Din held his breath, locking his jaw. “My designation is transport co-pilot,” He continued, hoping that the officer was looking for whatever he just said. 

“No, son,” Valin Hess said, clearly annoyed and suspicious. “What’s your TK number?” 

If Din thought he was going to break his fingers from clenching his hand so hard, it was nothing compared to the steel-like tensed state he was in now. “My TK number is…” Din repeated, hoping the extra second he got by repeating the question would by some miracle grant him with all the answers. 

“Uh huh,” the officer prompted. 

“This is my Commanding Officer, TK-593, sir,” Din never thought he’d have ever been grateful to hear Mayfeld’s voice, and yet here he was.

He would have sighed in relief if it weren’t for the building panic threatening to overtake him as Mayfeld relayed the expected identification numbers to Valin Hess. Din felt like his brain was short circuiting, unable to move past a crucial step in the act. Act natural. Act like everyone else. This is fine. This is fine, it’s for Grogu. For Cato. This is fine. 

“Your _name_ , officer,” Valin Hess said, loudly and exaggerated, startling Din as he had lost track of the conversation in his desperate attempts to get himself under control. 

Name? What was his name? What types of names did Imperial soldiers have? _Fuck_ , how did people do this? 

“Cato,” He blurted out, saying the first name that popped into his head besides his own. Immediately, the sound of the name left a heavy feeling in him, a flood of dread and guilt threatening to swallow him alive. 

“Uh, yeah, Cato,” Mayfeld muttered, catching Din’s eye briefly. “But we just call him Brown Eyes,” he added and for once, Din was grateful to not hear Cato’s name. “Isn’t that right, officer?” 

Din managed the tiniest of smiles as he looked from Mayfeld to Valin Hess, hoping Mayfeld had understood the gratitude he was trying to convey and also that Hess would buy his act. Cato had always told him that despite not being able to see his face, he was easy to read. He hoped that was not true right now. 

Mayfeld grabbed Din’s upper arm. “Lets go fill out those TPS reports so we can go recharge the power coils,” he said, starting to lead the two of them away. 

Din almost managed to get an adequate breath into his lungs when Valin Hess spoke again. “You're not dismissed,” the officer stated, making both of them freeze and slowly turn to face him. 

This was okay. It would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Senaar'ika: little bird 
> 
> **Cato in Bk 1 ch 8:** *panics when asked his surname* Djarin
> 
>  **Din in this chapter:** *panics when asked his name* Cato 
> 
> Ohhhhh I was so nervous about writing the whole Brown Eyes scene bc I don't feel like I can ever do that scene justice. Just the raw anxiety and borderline panic the whole time is astounding, plus the implications of the moral dilemma that Din is going through. I don't think that's something I'll ever be able to capture properly. 
> 
> Also, basically the characters this chapter: 
> 
> **Adrestia:** fuck, this Mandalorian is so sad. I don't know him or how to comfort people but he's basically my brother-in-law so I guess I _have_ to try...
> 
>  **Din & Cato:** *sad and blaming themselves* 
> 
> **Boba:** *about Adrestia* Time to adopt this crazy criminal as a younger sister. *this goes poorly*
> 
>  **Mayfeld:** *also about Adrestia* Don't make eye contact don't make eyecontact dontmakeeyecontact
> 
> Also! This is now all caught up! All of the prewritten chapters have been published, so future chapters will be updated slower. I think there are three chapters left! They will probably be published a bit slower than usual because I think they're going to be a bit longer and involve a lot more 'original' plot (just meaning stuff that's not shown or covered in the show/lot's of Cato focused scenes).
> 
> A quick note about this chapter: Cato's story is not in line with everyone else's. What I mean by this is that his portion of this chapter was _actually_ happening before Din even got to Adrestia on Trask. So just something t be aware of, cato's timeline doesn't exactly sync up with everyone else's.


	29. XXVIII: Death Or Obedience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING: Violence heavy chapter** (all torture based). If this has the potential to make you uncomfortable or trigger you then please either proceed with extreme caution or skip this chapter.

Broken cries echoed around the small room, the sickening sounds of a bruised body crumpling under the repeated assaults mixing with the sound.  
Cato’s head spun as Aezaeli jerked him back with one of her hands anchored firmly in his hair. 

“Tell me,” she growled. “Tell me his name,” Cato cried out abruptly as she twisted her grip, pulling at his hair harshly. “Tell me the name of the Mandalorian,” she hissed, so close to Cato he could feel her breath on his neck. 

“No,” he croaked out, shaking his head weakly. “N–no. I won’t...I can’t...I won’t tell you,” 

With a sickening _crack_ Cato’s head collided with the wall. His vision went black for a moment and returned blurry as tears involuntarily welled in his eyes and blood trickled into them from his forehead. Cato’s stomach flipped and he felt queasy as the blood continued to drip down his face from his nose and forehead. 

The metallic taste filled his mouth as the traces hit his lips. He struggled to wipe it away, but resorted to spitting it out when the shackles held his wrists firmly. 

A painful hold on his jaw forced him to look up Aezaeli, blearily taking in her appearance. He imagined she looked like the exact opposite of him right now. Perfectly immaculate and put together, an icy anger lying in wait behind her harsh silver eyes, cold and strong where Cato was a mess in every sense of the word. He hadn’t slept last night, too much residual pain coursing through him to let him rest and too much fear keeping him awake. 

Aezaeli sneered down at him and Cato choked down the bile that was rising in his throat as his stomach churned. “Does the blood bother you?” She mocked. “You didn’t seem to mind it when you slit my employee’s throat or when you maimed me,” She sneered, running the fingers through the trail of blood on his forehead. She looked at it for a moment then smeared it on the side of Cato’s cheek. Cato struggled in her grip, trying to wrench himself away from her but she kept her grip on his jaw tight. “How many have you killed?” She asked. 

Cato tried to turn his head away, quickly averting his gaze as his stomach tied itself in knots at her question. 

“Answer me,” She demanded. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling her nails digging into his jaw. “It was war,” he croaked. “I was a soldier, I was protecting—,” he grunted as she harshly pushed him back into the wall, his head knocking roughly against the metal surface roughly. 

“I don’t care about the _war hero_ ,” She tutted. “We both know that’s not you. I want to know how many people _you_ have killed just like you killed my team. How many met their ‘ _just_ ’ end by your hand? How many lives have you ruined?” She whispered, her hand sliding from his jaw to his throat, pinning him against the wall. “ _Tell me_ ,” 

Cato struggled, hands instinctively trying to move to pry her hand off his neck, but they were still locked behind his back. She just tightened her grip as Cato tried to suck in breaths, watching silently. “I–I–d-don’t—,” Cato writhed under her grip. “I don’t know,” he gasped out. 

Aezaeli didn’t lessen her hold on his neck. Cato could hear his blood rushing in his ears and black spots were starting to dance across his vision. Instead, Aezaeli leaned closer, lip curling. “I remember that day well. You moved with a practiced hand. We weren’t the first to see your bloodthirst. Isn’t that right?” She growled lowly. 

Cato shook his head, no longer caring about what she was saying and only trying to get enough air into his lungs to breath. 

“Is it?” Aezaeli hissed, shaking Cato slightly. “Say it,” she ordered. 

“You—,” Cato twisted, desperately looking for some way out. “You weren’t,” he sputtered. 

“Weren’t what?” 

“Weren’t my...my first—,” he stuttered trying to remember what she had said. First kill? No, that wasn’t right. “You weren’t the...the first to see...see me—my...my bloodthirst,” he repeated shakily.  
He heaved in a breath as Aezaeli loosened her hold slightly. It wasn’t enough to breathe fully yet, but it was enough to clear the darkness from the edge of Cato’s vision. 

Aezaeli watched him for a moment. “And do you think we deserved it?” She asked. 

Cato didn’t answer right away, still trying to get as much oxygen into his body as possible. “I don’t—you...you were slavers. You were going to sell me to the Empire,” he croaked. 

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you thought we deserved it,” she corrected with a threatening squeeze. 

“You...you tortured people...tortured them until they obeyed and then sold them. You would have done the same to me and subjected me to a life of torture,” Cato whispered. “My actions may weigh on my mind, but I don’t regret that it was you who bore the consequences,” he admitted, deathly quiet. 

The hand around his throat released him suddenly and Cato crumpled to the ground, unable to break his fall. The metal floor was cold against his cheek and soothed his warm skin, urging him to sleep. He was so tired and everything already hurt. He didn’t even know how long he had been here. Was it nearing the end of the second day-cycle? He couldn’t tell. The small square room was perfectly plain and had yet to change. It was always too cold and the lights never turned off. 

Aezaeli landed a hard kick to his stomach, Cato coughing harshly and twitching at the pain. She dug the heel of her boot into his side and rolled him onto his stomach.

Cato groaned as his face was awkwardly squished onto the floor. He turned his head as he heard Aezaeli start walking, but cried out in alarm when he felt her hand grab the back of his neck, the unsettling hold causing goosebumps to prickle up on his skin. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, making him shudder. 

“You are just as much a monster as I am,” She whispered. “Did you know that?” 

“No,” Cato, shook his head slightly, though it was difficult in this position. “I’m not like you. I didn’t do it on purpose,” He said weakly, hating how pathetic it sounded even to himself. 

Aezaeli scoffed and suddenly Cato was being dragged to his feet and pushed back against the wall, though to his immense relief there was no hand restricting his breathing this time.  
“You think we’re so different?” Aezaeli asked. “We both did what needed to be done to survive and found a place in war. You’re just too much of a coward to accept it,” She spat. “Ever since you left me covered in my own blood that day I’ve learned you. I’ve scourged the galaxy looking for those who had fallen by your hand and I found them. _And_ the ones left behind in the wreckage. You create such intricate pain it’s a shame you never took up the one job you were clearly built for,” a smile curled across her lips. “Death and torture. You are a weapon for war. You could crumble entire planets if implemented correctly,” 

Cato shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping it would make all of this disappear. No, she was wrong about him. He didn’t want war and bloodshed, he wanted to be left _alone_. 

“Does your Mandalorian know?” She asked, deceptively gentle. “Does he know about the blood that stains your hands? The horrors you’ve created?” Cato did his best to hide his face from Aezaeli. She was wrong, she was wrong, he wasn’t like her. Din would understand. He would understand if Cato told him. If Cato told him. He tried to still the quiver in his lip as he held back tears. “That’s a _no_ I take it,” Aezaeli hummed. “He’s a man of honour and code, how do you think he would react to the stories they tell about you? The _Carrion Knight_ is the name I hear whispers of buried in the desolate regions of the Outer Rim,” 

_The Carrion Knight_. That was what he had become to people? The scattered incidents of his mania had not been lost to the wind, but had grown into a twisted version of himself. From a child of Mandalore to Jedi Knight to Rebel Commander to the Carrion Knight. 

Cato heard Aezaeli hum and step back, letting him slide down to the floor. Everything he had done...every mistake he made...they would haunt him to his grave. 

There was a faint metallic sound and Cato felt his hands fall to his sides, trembling slightly. He could still feel the cold of the two, wide steel bands clamped around each wrist, but for now he had some comfort. 

He cradled his hands to his chest, feeling the sting of the chafed and raw skin beneath the bands. He wondered faintly if his old scars from Kappa V would be more prominent after this or if he would get new ones.

Silence haunted him for a moment, only breaking when he heard Aezaeli start to walk and he instinctively flinched. But she wasn’t walking towards him. Instead, when he found the courage to look up, she was walking out of the room, the door sliding closed behind her and seeming to vanish without a trace as it shut. 

Cato stayed like that for a long time, sitting against the wall with his hands cradled against his chest, gently playing over gentle patterns hoping to ease his mind.  
The peace didn’t last as the door slid open again with a hiss, accompanied by the sound of several pairs of footsteps. 

Cato looked up quickly, only just in time to see a pair of death troopers in front of him. They hoisted him to his feet and dragged him forwards to Aezaeli, who stood with a tray hovering beside her. 

“On the ground,” she ordered the troopers. They complied, forcing Cato to his knees in front of her, arms held in a way that kept his mobility severely limited. Aezaeli lifted something off the tray and then walked around behind Cato. He felt a spike of fear shoot through him as he realised she had grabbed a knife. 

He tried not to think about all the pain and horrors she could inflict with a knife, still shuddering with terror when she forced him to look down at the ground with a firm grip on the back of his head. 

To his surprise though, the knife barely touched his skin, instead slicing through the fabric of his shirt, all down the back until it hung off of him like a backwards jacket. Then she released her grip on his head and sliced the sleeves, cutting the piece of clothing off of him. 

The shirt fell into a crumpled heap in front of Cato and he was unsure of how to feel. Terrified, certainly, but mostly he just felt...confused. 

“See? Not that bad,” Aezaeli mused as she walked back around to stand in front of Cato. “Though I’ve been thinking about giving you a smile,” she added, tapping her own scars thoughtlessly. Cato’s stomach immediately churned at the connotations. She shrugged. “Maybe next time,” She set the knife back onto the tray and lifted something else that Cato didn’t recognise. She held it up so he could see, and he saw the Imperial insignia wrought on the end, almost like a stamp. 

She pressed a button and he saw the metal that made up the symbol begin to glow red and fear washed through him. 

Not a stamp. A _brand_. 

Immediately he began to struggle, trying to twist his arms away from the troopers. He tried to kick out, but the metal bands around his ankles had locked to the floor, rendering him imobile. 

Aezaeli slowly walked around to Cato’s back again and his panic grew. He strained against the grips that kept him in place, but they were harsh and unforgiving, keeping him right where he was.  
A hand on the back of his head sent chills through his body and he tried to twist out of it, writhing around in a feeble attempt to escape this fate. 

“Keep him still,” Aezaeli ordered. 

Cold metal hands clamped down on Cato, one on his shoulder, keeping his torso still, and one on his skull, forcing him to bow his head and expose the back of his neck. 

“Good,” 

A tense moment passed and then white hot pain obscured every thought and sense Cato had. The base of his neck, almost right between his shoulder blades, felt alive with vicious, furious agony, the pain radiating outwards. It was horrible and Cato wasn’t even aware of anything else. Was he screaming? He thought so, but he couldn’t be sure. All he knew in that moment was agony. 

And then everything went black and he opened his eyes, finding himself on a familiar stretch of sand planes. 

He looked around, confused for a moment. Then everything clicked back into place and he felt a temporary wave of gratefulness wash over him. The agonising pain had left him, though an uncomfortable heat was still tangible on the spot on his upper back and his mind still sung the horrors he had witnessed and committed. 

But there were lights on the horizon and an insatiable urge to reach them. 

It felt almost routine by now as Cato started walking towards the lights, the city rising up around him until he reached the colosseum. He stepped onto the floor of the arena, wondering which twisted version of himself he would fight this time. 

The eight statues remained where they had been every time before, many now showing damage from different fights. 

As Cato stood in the center of the arena, the crowd cheering around him, he wondered if he should give up. He wondered what would happen if he gave up. If he let his opponent kill him did that mean he’d die in real life? Aezaeli wouldn’t be able to touch him if he was dead, he would be safe from her tortures. But he would lose Din and Grogu forever. He would lose Adrestia and Cara, everyone. He would lose everyone. 

“You’re tired,” A gentle voice behind Cato spoke, startling him. He turned around quickly to find Kemuria standing there, smiling kindly at him. She took a step forward and reached towards Cato’s face. “You’re bleeding,” She noted. 

Furrowing his brow, Cato gingerly pressed his fingers to his forehead and pulled them away to find that there was indeed blood on them. 

“Here, let me,” Kemuria said, gently dabbing away the blood with a scrap of cloth that she seemed to have produced out of thin air. 

“Who—?” Cato tried to ask, remembering back to the strange vision on Tython. 

“Shhh,” She shushed gently, with a honeyed smile that made Cato instinctively relax. 

He forced it off and took a step back from her. He didn’t know her, whoever she was...she was tricking him. She had nearly made him forget everything last time and he wasn’t anxious to repeat that. In addition, the underlying confusion at having kissed a woman was making his head spin. He shook his head, holding a faintly trembling hand up to stop her from getting closer. “W-who are you?” He asked. 

Kemuria smiled gently. “You know me,” she said softly, reaching out to tenderly grasp his hand. 

Cato snatched his hand back from her, shaking his head again. “N-no,” He said quickly. “No, I...I don’t,” He swore his whole body was shaking. What was wrong with him? He knew the answer to that. Everything. “Why are you here? What are you doing in my head?”

Once again, Kemuria smiled and suddenly she was in front of Cato again, hands delicately brushing over his shoulders and chest. “I’m here to help you,” She murmured, smoothing a crease in Cato’s rumpled shirt. 

“With what?” He croaked. 

“I’m here to help you make your choice,” she cupped his face gently, black-brown eyes staring right into his. He swore she saw into his mind in that moment, saw the question he was forming, for she answered it before he even opened his mouth. “Death or obedience,” 

☀︎︎

Being warm. That was something that felt especially foriegn right now. 

The room wasn’t freezing, but it seemed to be kept at just the right temperature where his fingers and toes always felt icy to the touch and he was constantly chilly. The clothes they had given him were no help either, a simple pair of trousers and a thin white shirt that displayed the blood he shed at Aezaeli’s hand in such brilliance that he had to assume it was on purpose. 

The only good thing about the constant chill was it helped soothe the freshly burned brand on his back. It was tender to the touch and seemed to burn with its own heat unless Cato managed to shift his back in just the right way to have it pressed against the cold metal walls or floor. And as if the pain and discomfort of it wasn’t enough, the mere thought of having the Imperial insignia branded on his back was nauseating. 

He felt like a subject. Humiliated and tortured, and now branded, forever reminding him that he was owned by the Empire. They had staked their claim on him and now he would bear their cursed mark until his demise. 

The door slid open with a hiss, making Cato flinch back as he watched someone enter. Aezaeli had eluded to giving Cato a matching smile next time she came by, and Cato had nearly thrown up at the thought. The idea of a knife blade resting on his tongue before slicing sideways haunted him as he sat curled in a corner of the room through the night-cycle. And now as his tormentor approached him, the phantom sensations returned. 

Only when the person crouched in front of him did he realise it was not Aezaeli, but Doctor Umidri. The pale eyed doctor looked Cato over closely, running some kind of scanner over his face and forearms. Cato was too terrified to move. 

A couple seconds passed and Doctor Umidri smiled. “Yes, very good,” He nodded. Then he looked over his shoulder towards the door where Cato now saw two stormtroopers standing guard. “Well, come on, let's get this started,” he said, standing up. 

Cato shuffled back in alarm as the two stormtroopers approached, backing him into a corner. He yelped when they grabbed him, dragging him to his feet and over to a familiar chair that seemed to be raised and lowered from the floor. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Cato struggled as they dragged him towards it. “What are you doing? What—?” he grunted as he was roughly thrown down onto the seat, his chest flaring up in pain as he hit the metal and gasped. He could feel the stormtroopers holding his arms and legs down as the metal shackles on his bare wrists and ankles magnetised to the chair, leaving him immobile and completely helpless to whatever was in store. 

Doctor Umidri looked Cato over again, frowning slightly when his pale eyes landed on Cato’s face. He walked over and pushed some of Cato’s dirty and now very messy hair out of his face. “Hm,” he mused to himself for a moment. Then he removed his hand and let the hair fall back into place, looking up at the stormtroopers positioned behind Cato as he did so. “Cut it,” 

“Wait,” Cato tried to look around as he heard the stormtroopers walk away. “Wait, what? Don’t touch my hair,” He argued. He heard the stormtroopers return and tried to lean away from them as they came to stand behind him. “Don’t—!” he was cut off as a fist full of his unruly locks were grabbed harshly, keeping him in place. “Stop it,” he hissed. 

But it didn’t matter. There was a buzzing sound and Cato could see the locks of dark hair falling to the ground. 

He couldn't even explain to himself why he felt so devastated over this. It was silly. It was just hair, it would grow back. And yet as he stared at the discarded locks, he felt tears in his eyes. 

“Don’t be so sad, Cato,” Doctor Umidri said, tilting Cato’s face up suddenly. “It’s all for a good cause,” he assured, sticking some kind of electrode to Cato’s temples. Cato flinched away from his touch, trying to figure out what he was doing. Doctor Umidri stopped for a moment and gave him a stern look. “You have nothing to worry about from these, they’re just to monitor your neural patterns,” 

Cato cringed as a couple more of the cold electrodes were adhered to his skin—two on each forearm and one on the side of his neck—and the grip on his head let go, signifying that his hair had been successfully butchered. 

Doctor Umidri straightened up and dusted off his jacket slightly, going over to a bank of computers that the stormtrooper that wasn’t cutting off Cato’s hair had brought in. Cato watched apprehensive as the pale man looked over the information on the screen, just enough in the peripheral of Cato’s vision that he couldn’t read any of it. 

“Perfect, it’s working beautifully so far,” the doctor said excitedly. “Now the hard part,” he turned back to Cato and pulled on a new pair of disposable gloves and lifted a scalpel. 

Cato instinctively tried to jerk away from the blade when he saw it, but was effectively locked in place. The doctor leaned over Cato’s left arm, tracing a finger over the soft skin of the inside of his forearm. He stopped just below the inside of his elbow and off to the side a bit, glancing back at the computer for some kind of confirmation. He nodded to himself and Cato sucked in a harsh breath as he felt the disturbing tugging sensation of the scalpel cutting a small incision in the spot. 

This continued for a few minutes, Doctor Umidri making a handful of small incisions in seemingly random locations across the insides of Cato forearm, repeating the process on the right arm as well. Cato’s jaw was locked in place the whole time, gritting his teeth against the small sounds of pain that were welling up inside him. He kept his eyes locked on a spot where the wall met the ceiling as well, making sure not to look at the beads of blood that he could feel gathering and trickling slowly on his forearms. 

Doctor Umidri stepped back and set the scalpel on the tray again. “Now, I’m sure you’re curious as to what this is all about,” he said, picking up a small metal box from the tray. “I’m sure you know all about kyber crystals, being a Jedi— _former_ Jedi, my apologies,” Doctor Umidri gave another one of his oddly mechanical smiles. “My point is, you are probably familiar with the crystals and their properties, as well as the fact that they cannot be replicated synthetically,” he reached into the box and produced a small clear-white crystal. “At least, not as of yet,” he said, turning the crystal over in his fingers. “This is obviously not a kyber, but hopefully with your help, it will be,” 

Cato’s stomach twisted up at that. They were going to try to use him to make synthetic kyber crystals? That’s what all this was about?

There was barely any time to consider the information he had just been given when a sharp pain in his arm made him suck in a sharp breath, looking down in alarm to find Doctor Umidri inserting the crystal into one of the incisions on his arm. 

“Of course, we can’t be sure until we try, but I believe I’ve developed a potential way to mimic some of the properties of kyber crystals synthetically,” the doctor continued nonchalantly as Cato squirmed in discomfort, trying to tug his arm away. 

There was a clinking sound as Umidri fished another crystal from the box and moved onto the next incision. And on and on and on until each cut had been paired with a crystal. Just looking down at his arms, watching the harsh light glint off the crystals and blood pooling around the bases made his breaths come out ragged and his hands shake. 

Doctor Umidri took a step back, watching with interest as Cato twitched before him. 

Cato wasn’t sure what the plan was, sure this sucked, but drenching crystals in his blood wasn’t going to turn them into kybers. That was—

Like a switch had been flipped, a familiar surge of energy coursed through Cato, reminiscent of when he had channeled the Force directly into his body on Nevarro, except instead of flooding into him this was flowing out of him. It felt like some invisible current inside of him had suddenly switched, turning what once was an idle stream into a roaring river that was rushing towards the crystals, tearing through him carelessly. 

His breath was stolen from him, keeping the screams that had built in his chest trapped inside him as a hurricane of power tore apart his cells and sent a thousand jolts of electricity through him as it flooded down to his arms. He could feel power, energy, _life_ , flowing from him into the crystals, the shards growing uncomfortably hot as they filled. 

Then it all stopped, Cato slumping forwards in the chair, his chin nearly resting against his heaving chest. Everything was buzzing, he couldn’t hear anything aside from that, and he was pretty sure he was being burned by crystals but he was too tired...everything just felt heavy. 

“—most exquisite,” Doctor Umidri’s voice broke through the buzzing and Cato groaned in pain as he felt one of the crystals being removed. 

The moment of almost peace was disrupted as an alarm suddenly sounded out in the hall, followed by the sounds of footsteps. 

Cato squinted, trying to block out the harsh sound of the alarm, faintly wondering what it meant. 

“Doctor!” A familiar voice snapped, Cato flinching at the sound of Aezaeli’s cold voice. He saw her quickly walk up to the doctor, seeming tense. “There’s an attack,” She reported. “It would appear there’s an attempted...rescue underway,” she said, giving Cato a glance out of the corner of her eye.

_A rescue?_ Cato’s pulse jumped. Was Din coming? Was he coming to save them? Was he already here? A spark of hope ignited in Cato’s chest at the thought of once again being safe in Din’s arm with the child they may as well call their own. 

“—You need to get out of here along with all of your research. I’m here to escort you. _Now_.” Aezaeli said sharply, snapping Cato out of his blissful shock. 

“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” Doctor Umidri said, pale eyes slightly wider than usual and almost displaying a human emotion. “You two!” he beckoned the stormtroopers who had escorted him. “Pack all this up! And hurry!” 

Aezaeli nodded and stepped back, allowing Doctor Umidri to quickly finish extracting the crystals from Cato’s arms, though now he barely noticed. 

“Aezaeli,” Umidri said as one of the troopers packed everything up. “What of Cato? I need more time,” 

The red haired woman looked Cato up and down distastefully, seeming to sense his near-delirium. She looked over at the second stormtrooper. “Tranquilize him. High dosage, we need him under for a few days. He moves with us,” she ordered. 

Cato couldn’t process all this fast enough, the hope he had felt was quickly squashed out as he felt a pinprick in his arm and saw a syringe being emptied into his arm. “Stop!” he shouted—or at least tried to. 

The effect was instant, his vision swimming out of focus and his eyes drooping before sliding shut and forcing him into a deep sleep, unaware of anything around. 

☀︎︎

Blearily, as though walking through fog at night or rising towards the surface of the ocean, Cato came back to consciousness. At first it was barely anything, a simple awareness of himself, hazy thoughts, and faint feelings. Then, slowly and laboriously—as of dragging himself up a cliff with his bare hands—Cato hauled himself out of his unconscious state. 

Drowsily, he opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh lights. He groaned and rolled over, almost immediately hissing as pins and needles of pain danced across his arms. Looking down, he found his forearms wrapped in strips of white gauze, spots of blood bleeding through.

 _The crystals._

Cato quickly pushed himself up, wincing in pain as he did so and shuffled to lean against the wall—he noted briefly that the brand didn’t feel as itchy and hot anymore. Shakily, Cato began to tug the gauze off of his arms, revealing whatever horrors had been left behind by the experiment. 

He blanched at the sight, staring at the scarring and scabbing incisions. There were more than he remembered. Some of them looked almost healed over and in the places he remembered, but others looked fresh, still oozing blood occasionally. They had continued the experiment while he was unconscious. 

Cato’s stomach churned and he locked his jaw, trying to will away the crawling sensation across his skin as he thought about being unconscious and so vulnerable around all these people. 

However, the new incisions weren’t the strangest or scariest thing. Running down his forearms, seeming to be just under the skin like veins, were tendrils of something dark. Starting—or surfacing—partway up his upper arm, the odd vein-like structured branched and wove together—almost like lightning scars—homing in around the incisions where the crystals had been. Thinking back, Cato remembered the feeling of energy burning through him to get to the crystals and he had the sudden sickening feeling that they were some kind of internal burn from the energy. 

_Din._

The thought struck Cato abruptly and he looked around, remembering that he had been knocked out because of some incursion that Aezaeli had referred to as an ‘attempted rescue’. 

He was disappointed to see that he was in the same room he had been in this whole time, the blank walls and bright lights, all perfectly aligned to keep him unaware of time passage or even what wall the door was on. 

But then again...they had been about to move him when they knocked him out. Perhaps this was a different room. 

All of this raised the same question. How long had he been asleep? 

Almost as if sensing his question, there was a mechanical hiss behind him, Cato flinching at the sound and scrambling to turn around. 

The door slid open and Aezaeli walked in, a black crate in hand. 

She looked over Cato coldly, silver eyes piercing and harsh. “Good, you’re finally awake,” Her eyes flicked to the gauze in his hands and her lip curled at the sight, Cato instinctively trying to shift back. “The doctor just had those changed, the least you could do was keep them on,” She spat. 

Cato watched, holding his breath as Aezaeli set the crate down by the now closed door, opening it and taking out a black bag. 

“How long?” 

He wasn’t even aware he had spoken. The voice seemed so foreign and detached from him, a barely audible rasp. 

Aezaeli paused and turned to face him fully, looking down at him distastefully. “Three days,” she answered bluntly. “Your friends made a rescue attempt,” She scoffed. “But, as you can see, we managed to keep you,” 

Cato’s heart dropped. What had happened? Where was Din? Was he alive? friends plural? Who else had come? Were they alive? “The—,” Cato hesitated, unsure if he should even ask. “The Mandalorian...” He asked weakly. 

“You mean this Mandalorian?” Aezaeli asked, turning the bag upside down. 

There was the deafening clatter of metal on metal and Cato winced, squeezing his eyes shut at the pain it brought in his head. When he opened his eyes, he felt his whole world crash down around him. 

Aezaeli kicked the helmet forward carelessly, the metal making an awful screeching sound as it slid across the floor.  
Cato reached towards it, glancing up hesitantly at Aezaeli to make sure she wasn’t about to attack. But she just stood there, watching Cato with an expression of stone-cold smugness.  
Reaching forwards, Cato’s trembling fingers found cold metal as he lifted the weighty helmet up. His vision blurred with tears as he stared hopelessly into the familiar, impassive T visor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't pick up on it, time is very skewed in this chapter. Cato is so out of it that they could tell him it's been a month and he'd believe them. This chapter was literally just Cato getting beat up and being sad. It'll be fun times when he get's rescued! (assuming he survives the escape)
> 
> Edit: Still trying to figure this format out, so i realised I never explained very well. Cato thinks he was captured for about a week, but in actuality it was probably only four days (at least in the timeline I'm using), but with the combination of his loss/skewed time, weird dreams (which weren't really addressed bc this chapter was already so long but will be talked about later), and the fake rescue drugging he has absolutely no clue how long it was.


	30. XXIX: The Rescue

“You ready?” The Mandalorian asked, holstering his blaster after checking it.

Adrestia gave a grim smile, giving her vambraces one last once over. “Let’s go,” she nodded.

The two dropped into the imperial shuttle, moving quickly through the small space.

“Three lifeforms in the cockpit, that’s it.” The Mandalorian relayed, looking around and scanning the ship with his helmet. Adretia gave a curt nod and led the way to the cockpit, blasters drawn.

When they reached the doors, Adrestia opened them and entered, face set into a cold mask of steel. They were going to get the information they came for. She was going to get her brother back. No matter what.

The three people in the cockpit all stood upon the entry, the two pilots standing with their hands by their shoulders. The third was a doctor, who was looking at Adrestia and the Mandalorian with wide eyes as he held his hands up. He was the one they wanted.

“Before you make any mistakes,” One of the pilots said slowly. “This is Doctor Pershing,”

“We’ve met,” The Mandalorian said stonily. “Cato and the child, are they alive?” He asked.

The doctor was quick to nod. “Yes. They’re on the cruiser—,” Pershing’s words morphed into a terrified gasp as the pilot behind him grabbed him and rested the barrel of his blaster against his temple.

Adrestia took a step forward and leveled both her blasters at the pilot, knowing the Mandalorian would make sure the second didn’t try anything.

“Stay back, imposter,” The pilot snapped at her.

Adrestia armed the blasters. “You know, it’s rude to make judgements about people you’ve only just met,” She stated icily.

“Easy, pal. Okay?” the second pilot interjected nervously, looking to Adrestia. She kept her gaze on the pilot holding Doctor Pershing hostage. She knew she was a faster shot, but with the barrel right against his skull...she knew she couldn’t risk it. “I’m not with him,” The second pilot said. “I’m sure we can work something out,”

“Your grovelling is wasted on me,” Adrestia scoffed, not bothering to look at him.

“Please—,” The plea died in his throat as the first pilot shot him, the body dropping to the floor.

Adrestia snarled and took another half step forward. “Drop your weapon,” She ordered.

“No.” The first pilot refused. “No, you listen to me. This is a top-tier target of the New Republic. This is a clone engineer and if they find out that he’s dead because of you you’re going to wish you never left whatever slimy cave you crawled out of,” the pilot sneered. “I know the designs on that armour,” He said, nodding at the asymmetrical piece of armour Adrestia wore across her chest, the once gold metal now painted black, but still embossed with the same designs. “I know who you are. The protege. They called you the Spider. And your friends…” Adrestia’s expression hardened and she could feel her lips twitch as she repressed the urge to just snarl and rip the man’s face off. “The General was right about you. You don’t learn quick enough. She was right to have killed them all,” the pilot glanced over at the Mandalorian for a split second then returned his gaze to Adrestia. “Have you learned your lesson yet? Or do you need anoth—,” The mocking words died in his throat as Adrestia pulled the triggers, two beams of red energy colliding with the man’s face, sending another body to the floor.

“And you?” She asked, looking at Doctor Pershing intently. “Do you have anything to say?” She asked. The man just whimpered, still in shock. “Good,” Adrestia snarled.

☀︎︎

“This is Moff Gideon’s Imperial light cruiser,” Bo-Katan said, bringing up the hologram of the ship. “In the old days it would carry a crew of several hundred, now it operates with a tiny fraction of that,”

“Your assessment is misleading,” Pershing spoke up from his seat.

“Oh great,” Cara snapped. “An objective opinion,”

Pershing looked over at the dropper sharply. “This isn’t subterfuge, I assure you,” he swore.

“Let him finish,” Bo-Katan said before Cara could interrupt.

The doctor gave a small nod. “There’s a garrison of Dark Troopers on board. They’re the ones who abducted the child and the jedi,”

Adrestia frowned and leaned forward. The Mandalorian had briefly described these Dark Troopers when going over what had happened, but it wasn’t in detail and they had both just assumed them to be droids. But this...this was something else.

“How many troopers do they have armed in those suits?” The Mandalorian asked.

Pershing sighed nervously. “These are third-generation designs. They are no longer suits. The human inside was the final weakness to be solved,” Adrestia’s frown deepened. “They’re droids,” the doctor confirmed.

“Where are they bivouacked?” Shand spoke up suddenly.

Pershing stood up, Bo-Katan standing and Adrestia arming her vambrace as well in preparation to attack should he lash out. But Pershing made a little raising motion with his cuffed hands and simply walked over to the hologram, pointing out a part of the ship.

“They’re held in cold storage in this cargo bay,” he said, the hologram zooming in to show what he was talking about. “They draw too much power to be kept at ready,”

Adrestia stood and walked closer, looking at the bay. “How long to power up?” She asked.

Pershing looked back at her with obvious nervousness in his eyes as he looked at her. “A few minutes perhaps,” He said with uncertainty.

“Where is the child being held?” The Mandalorian asked.

Pershing pressed a couple more controls and the hologram shifted to show a different room. “This is the brig,” he said. “He’s being held here under armed guard,”

The Mandalorian was quiet for a moment. “And Cato?” he asked.

“Ah,” Pershing looked down. “Doctor Umidri has him held in this room here,” once again, the hologram shifted, showing a square room. “They’re kept on opposite ends of the ship from each other to prevent any potential contact,” Pershing explained.

“And the security on him?”

Pershing pursed his lips. “I, uh...Cato is Doctor Umidri’s...subject,” Adrestia let out a low growl at the word and she saw Pershing shudder. “But! I–I do know...his cell isn’t typically guarded. At least, not by troopers. He’s...he’s often looked over by The Operative. And before you ask, I don’t know anything about her. Gideon found her and hired her, something about ‘being invested in Cato’s future’,” he said, glancing around nervously.

Bo-Katan examined the map and nodded. “Very well. We split into two parties, one gets the Child and Cato and the other deals with the crew,”

“I go alone,” The Mandalorian immediately interjected.

Bo-Katan nodded. “Fine. Phase one: _Lambda_ shuttle issues a distress call. Two, we come in hot and land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube cutting of any potential interceptors,” Bo-Katan said, pointing to the places she was referencing on the hologram. “Koska, Dune, Fennec, Adrestia, and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we’ve neutralised the launch bay, we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver,”

“And me?” The Mandalorian asked.

“We’ll be misdirection,” Bo-Katan explained simply. “Once we draw a crowd, you slip through the shadows and get the kid and Cato,”

Adrestia frowned, looking at the map. “Two parties won’t work here,” She spoke up. Bo-Katan looked over her shoulder at Adrestia, waiting for her to explain. “We have three things to worry about. We need to get Cato and the kid out safely, we need to worry about Gideon and the crew, and we need to think about the Dark Troopers. Cato and the Child are held on opposite ends of the ship, we can’t get one of them and make it the second without triggering the alarm and we can’t get to the second cell before the Dark Troopers are powered up,”

“Then one team gets the kid and the other team gets Cato,” Cara suggested, stepping forward.

“We _have_ to deal with the Dark Troopers,” Adrestia stressed. “I’ve dealt with previous versions of them and they weren’t fun. I don’t want to get close only to be pinned down and killed by a squad of them.”

Bo-Katan nodded and leaned forward again, looking at the map. “Their bay is on the way to the brig,”

Adrestia nodded and looked over at Pershing. “Can he make it there before they deploy?” she asked, nodding at the Mandalorian.

“It’s possible,” the doctor nodded.

Shand grabbed the doctor roughly and lifted a code cylinder off him, holding it out to the Mandalorian. “Here,” she said. “Take his code cylinder and seal off their holding bay. Anyone else we can handle,” she assured.

The Mandalorian took the code cylinder. “But what about Cato?” He asked.

“I’ll get Cato,” Adrestia said, looking up from the map.

“I can—,” he began to protest.

“Deal with the Dark Troopers and get the kid. I’ll get my brother,” She held his gaze intently for a moment, even though she couldn’t see his eyes. “I promise,” She swore.

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian nodded, agreeing to the plan. Adrestia nodded and turned back to the map, doing a quick coded version on her hand of how to get to Cato’s cell.

A thought suddenly struck Adrestia and she turned back to the Mandalorian. “Cato’s lightsaber, do you have it?” She asked.

He hesitated again before nodding. “Yes,”

Adrestia held out a hand. “Give it to me,” he made no movement to do so. “He’ll need a weapon and if we’re going against the darksaber...we need him to wield his lightsaber,”

The Mandalorian was perfectly still for a moment, then reached behind him and unclipped something from his belt. When he redrew it, Adrestia could see the silver and bronze hilt of her brother’s lightsaber, the one he had been carrying on Trask. The Mandalorian held it for a moment, looking down at the weapon in his hand. But then he reached out and put it in Adrestia’s outstretched hand.

She closed her fingers around the cold metal and clipped it to her belt.

“Well,” She looked around at the rest of the team. “Let’s go get ready,”

☀︎︎

“You sure you know how to use those?” Bo-Katan quipped as Adrestia locked her vambraces on.

Adrestia shot the older Mandalorian a sarcastic smile. “I lived with mum longer than Cato did,” she reminded her.

Bo-Katan smiled as she slid her helmet on. “She’d be proud of you two,”

Adrestia didn’t have time to answer, because then the ramp was lowering and they were off.

Stormtroopers fell left and right as the five women cut through the launch bay.

Two Mandalorians, an assassin, a rebel dropper, and criminal lord. They didn’t stand a chance.

The five of them made quick work of the launch bay, cutting through into the adjacent decks and headed to the bridge. Adrestia stayed with them through the first two decks, then with a nod to Bo-Katan, she set off down a side hall, heading towards the cell that held Cato.

She would bring this whole ship to its knees if that’s what it took to get her brother back.

☀︎︎

Adrestia slunk down the deserted hallways, following the map that she had drawn out over the backs of her fingers using the technique she had been taught by her old teacher.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and Adrestia swore she could feel her heartbeat in her head. Fuck, she hadn’t been this nervous in a long time. The only comfort she had was that Pershing had said Cato was still alive. He was alive and that was what was important. They could figure everything else out so long as he was alive.

Adrestia took the final turn, peering around the corner into the next identical hallway. There were no guards, the distraction provided by Cara, Fennec, Bo-Katan, and Koska appearing to be working. She hoped the Mandalorian was having the same success as her.

Glancing over her shoulder just to make sure she wasn’t about to be ambushed, Adrestia stepped into the hallway, heading to the door marked on her fingers. She paused outside of it, running her hand over it briefly. Durasteel, nothing fancy.

She couldn’t help the small smirk that spread across her lips at that realization. She stepped back and locked her left vambrace in, the small laser firing to life as she set about cutting at the metal where she knew the lock in the door to be. As she heard the final tumbler break, she turned the laser off with a flick of her wrist and drew her glaive, digging its glowing blade into the door with a scream of scraping metal. Then she ripped the door open, dragging it with her glaive.

When it was open enough for her to easily step through, she yanked her glaive out and stepped into the room.

Her gaze first fell to Cato who was lying crumpled on the ground in the far corner, seemingly unconscious, though tremors and twitches ran through his body. Adrestia barely had time to take note of the dried blood, his sickly form and sloppily shorn hair when movement to the side caught her eye and she turned to face the woman she was expecting.

‘The Operative’ as Pershing had called her had sharp features and had clearly seen her fair share of violence as she stepped into the light to reveal the scars at the corners of her mouth and battle hardened eyes.

“Hm,” She hummed lazily. “I was expecting the Mandalorian,” She mused, looking Adrestia up and down with an unimpressed eye. “Who are you?”

Adrestia looked the woman up and down, quickly putting a name to her. “I’m here for my brother, you bitch,” she snarled. She did another visual pass of the ex-slaver, this time making sure it was deliberately slow so Aezaeli could see.

Aezaeli scoffed in amusement. “ _Brother_?” She repeated incredulously. Her eyes flicked over to where Cato still lay crumpled near her and she made a falsely sympathetic pout. “And here I thought his whole family had been killed,” she looked back at Adrestia and curled her lips into a smile. “It appears they’re a grave short,”

Adrestia curled her lip, gripping her glaive tighter. “I’d be a bit more respectful when speaking to me, _Aezaeli_ ,” she snarled. “I’d say your career is on the line, but, ah—,” She grinned. “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving this room alive,”

Aezaeli’s eyes narrowed and she took a deliberate step forward, hands drifting to her hips where Adrestia could see the hilts of two blades strapped to her back.

“Tsuax sends his regards,” Adrestia mocked with a grin. The flash of anger that crossed Aezaeli’s face caused Adrestia to grin coldly. “His head is decorating the walls of _Morgos Rath_ right now, but I doubt you’d recognise him. He didn’t give up his intel very easily—,”

Aezaeli struck like a viper, one of the blades nearly slicing off half of Adrestia’s face had she not seen the red glow of the blade and ducked to the side.

Adrestia twirled her glaive upwards, catching the second blade with her own. A red flash out of the corner of her eye, and she pushed away, missing the second slice from the first blade. Adrestia only stayed back for a moment before darting forward and slicing the glaive towards Aezaeli who sidestepped, swinging her blades at Adrestia. A quick tap on the left vambrace and they glanced off the shield emitter that sprung into existence. Adrestia jammed the butt of her glaive into Aezaeli’s gut and wrenched upwards, hitting the underside of her jaw, sending her stumbling back a few steps.

Aezaeli wheezed and coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. But she just grinned through her bloody teeth and raised her blades. “I expected better from the _infamous Senaar_ ,” she mocked.

Adrestia snarled and charged forwards with a flurry of new attacks.

☀︎︎

The shrill sound of metal scraping on metal was all Cato had been able to make out for the past few minutes as he slowly drifted back to awareness. The harsh lights of the room kept him blind as his vision slowly returned. His hearing on the other hand, came back quicker. Grunts and snarls accompanied the harsh clang of metal. Cato tried to look at what was going on, but he couldn’t do it. His body wouldn’t obey his commands, vision stuck on the shadowy mass of the wall.

Pain erupted through Cato’s body as he was abruptly dragged to his feet by a harsh hand. Gasping and groaning in pain, Cato fumbled weakly against the iron grip that dragged him backwards with a hand knotted in the choppy remains of his hair.

He could hear muffled talking, but the pain blurred his vision and the ringing in his ears kept him from trying to decipher the words.

The hand in his hair shook him, making his head throb.

“—him? Your _precious_ Cato?” The familiar voice of Aezaeli snarled. “I’ll spill his blood over my hands and drown you in it!” she spat, and it was only then that Cato noticed the cold and humming presence of a blade against his throat.

He managed to blink away the blurriness in his vision a little, making out a figure standing opposite him and Aezaeli. “Din,” He croaked, barely audible. _No, Din was dead_. They had shown him his helmet. They had killed him. He blinked again, trying to see. He had to see. His vision cleared up enough for him to make out faces and features, and he found that it was not the familiar Mandalorian that had come for him, but a familiar red haired woman dressed in black and holding a glaive.

Adrestia.

Her brown eyes locked onto Cato’s and he could detect the fury and fear crashing behind them like an entire ocean. Her mouth twitched, as if about to curl into a snarl, and he could see that her knuckles were white on the shaft of her glaive. She moved to take a step, but Aezaeli tutted and pressed the blade to Cato’s neck, drawing out a whimper from the man.

“Not a step closer,” Aezaeli warned. “Now, lower the staff,” She ordered.

Adrestia flicked her gaze from Aezaeli to her glaive and back again before looking to Cato. Then, hesitantly, she dropped her hold on the weapon, the glaive clattering to the floor with a cacophony of sound that drove the spike of pain in Cato’s head in even further.

“Now, take a couple generous steps back,” Aezaeli demanded. When Adrestia hesitated, Cato made a strangled gasp of pain as Aezaeli yanked his head back, further exposing his neck. “I _said_ step back,” his captor gritted out.

Adrestia kept her eyes locked on Cato and took three steps back, not looking away from him. He maintained eye contact, almost able to sense her mind racing as she tried to figure out what to do. Her vambraces couldn’t get him out reliably, there was too much room for error. She wasn’t confident enough on her ability to draw _and_ fire her blaster quickly enough, but if that was the only option then…

Cato’s head throbbed as he winced in pain. How did he know all of that?

A flash of metal on her belt caught his eye, and he glanced at it, Adrestia seeming to follow his gaze without moving her eyes from him. He looked back at her and understanding passed between them.

“Now—,”

Aezaeli was cut off as Adrestia—almost too fast to comprehend—unclipped Cato’s lightsaber from her belt and threw it to him.

Cato was barely aware of his movements as he seamlessly caught the hilt in his hand and ignited it as he turned in Aezaeli’s grasp, the golden blade elongating right into her chest.

Aezaeli let out a horrid gasp of shock and pain, eyes wide as Cato stood almost nose to nose with her. Her sharp silver eyes stared into his with such shock that pain didn’t even have a chance to register as he watched the life fade from them and felt her grip slacken. She fell to the ground, dead, as Cato extinguished the lightsaber, lifeless silver eyes staring up at the ceiling.

All Cato could hear was the steady beat of his heart as he stared at her. This death would not haunt him. That much he knew.

_Adrestia._

Cato tried to turn around to see her, to call her name. But instead he just sank to his knees and the familiar taste of iron filled his throat. What…?

“Cato?” He heard Adrestia say his name and saw her approach from the corner of his vision, feeling her place a worried hand on his shoulder. “Are you—? Cato!”

His vision swam as he fell the rest of the way to the ground, Adrestia managing to catch him and lower him onto the cold floor, brown eyes wide with terror. And now he could feel it, the warm flow of blood pouring down his front from the clean cut on his neck. Fear rushed in suddenly as everything registered and suddenly it _hurt_. _Stars_ , it hurt _so much_. The white hot stinging on the left side of his neck that demanded his attention was unbearable, but the panic-inducing discomfort and gravelly agony that came as he felt blood starting to fill his lungs was just as awful.

He gurgled, the pain getting worse, hands scrabbling for purchase on Adrestia’s as she desperately pressed her hands over the wound on his neck.

“I know, I know, I know,” She gasped, panic present in her voice as well as eyes wet with unshed tears. “It’ll be fine, it'll be fine,” she rambled. “I’ll get you out of here, it’ll be fine, I’ll get you hep, you'll be okay,”

He gasped, an agonising action in his condition, and squeezed her hands tightly, smearing blood over the both of them. He had to tell her. He had to tell her, he couldn’t die without telling her. He _couldn’t_.

Something fell from Adrestia’s face and splashed onto him, and it took him a moment to realise it was a tear.

She shook her head forcefully. “No, no, no, you’ll be _fine_ ,” she gritted out through her tears. “I promised him I would get you. I _promised_ I would get you back to him. To me. To All your friends.” she met Cato’s gaze, and he hated the anguish he could see in her face. “ _Gar aliit_ ,” she whispered.

He tried to speak again, finding his energy already seeping away. He could feel his vision getting cloudy and his head getting lighter and lighter, as if he would just float away with the tiniest gust of wind.

“Cato?” Adrestia whispered worriedly. “Cato? No. No no no no, Cato, _Cato_!” he knew she was shouting, screaming, but her voice sounded so far away. So...so far…

And then nothing.

With such force that it felt like he had just been electrocuted, air pushed itself into his lungs in a painful breath and Cato gasped, senses rushing back to him.

Adrestia stared down at him with wide eyes, tears on her cheeks but face made up into an expression of shock and disbelief. He furrowed his brow and squeezed her hands, surprised when the sharp, white hot pain was no longer present on his neck. Adrestia’s hands went limp and slid off him and he felt around where the wound had been, finding a scabbed-over cut where the gash had been. It still hurt a little, but far more of a dull ache when he touched than the agonizing white hot pain. This one also felt shallower, as if it was more of a surface wound.

Cato looked up at Adrestia in blatant shock as he propped himself up slightly on his elbows, hands still running over his neck where—despite the blood all down his front and on his hands still being warm—was greatly healed.

“Adrestia—,” He croaked.

She stared at him, wide eyed, then looked down at her blood covered hands with the same amount of shock before looking back at him. “Oh Maker,” she breathed, barely audible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translation:  
> Gar Aliit: Your family
> 
> Annnnnd Adrestia is Force-sensative! 
> 
> Just to be clear, Aezaeli didn't have lightsabers, she had two longknives with the kyuzo petar style blades as seen in Solo (aka the glowy brass knuckle blades that Dryden Vos had) 
> 
> Also, Cato's head wasn't like...shaved. It's all choppily cut much short because Doctor Umidri just needed it to not fall over Cato's face for when he put the electrodes on. 
> 
> The next chapter is the last and will probably be a bit lengthy (though I doubt it will be as long as chapter 28) because I have to fit a bunch of stuff in. Ahhhhhhh I can't believe there's one chapter left (plus a couple bonus scenes & chapters like last time which will be published in the When We Were Strangers book)


	31. XXX: Beskar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of book 2

The Dazhyn siblings limped down the halls of the light cruiser, supporting each other—though mostly it was Cato being supported by Adrestia.

“What did they want with you?” Adrestia whispered as they slowly made their way to the bridge.

Cato shook his head, his whole body feeling light and achingly heavy at the same time. “I don’t—I can’t—,” he shook his head again, images flashing through his mind of the tortures Aezaeli had put him through and the agony of the crystals. He shuddered involuntarily, even flinching against Adrestia’s supporting touch.

She must have noticed because she glanced over at him, and though her eyes still held clear shock at her display of abilities earlier, concern showed through them clearly. “Tell me when you’re ready,” She said with a tight lipped smile. Cato nodded wordlessly in appreciation. “And you’re sure that whatever’s in these vials will work?” She asked, pulling out one of the vials of greenish liquid.

Cato nodded. “Yeah. They’ll keep the endless sleep off for a few days at a time,” he said, purposefully leaving out the part where it was agonizing to take. But that didn’t matter. If it could help him stay out of the crushing darkness then it was worth it.

Adrestia shrugged. “Whatever it takes to keep you on your feet,” she muttered.

They walked in silence for a few seconds, Cato trying his best to stay present while Adrestia kept a vigilant eye.

“What happened to your leg?” she asked after a moment, referring to the heavy limp that Cato was sporting. “Is it something…” She trailed off. “I don’t know how this shit works,” she said, referring to her newfound ability to heal people with the Force. “But could I heal it?”

Cato shook his head. “No,” he said simply, not finding the energy to explain.

“What happened?” Adrestia asked again.

“Something with my knee. I don’t know. I don’t remember,”

Footsteps running up ahead distracted the two and they both tensed up. Adrestia unholstered one of her blasters and pushed it into Cato’s nearly limp grasp. “You’re good with these,” She stated, carefully stepping away from Cato but making sure he was still upright.

A group of five stormtroopers rounded the corner up ahead upon seeing them shouted and started firing at them.

Cato flinched back, almost falling over, but to his surprise the charges fell short dispelling off of a shield emitter Adrestia had on one of her vambraces. She pulled the glaive off her back and using the shield to give herself—and Cato, so long as she stayed in front of him—cover as she charged at the troopers.

As soon as she was close enough, she swung her glaive at them, the blade carving into one of their chests. Cato watched blankly as she took down the small squad in a matter of seconds, glowing blade tearing through armour as if it were tissue paper.

_How many have met their just end by your hand?_

He flinched at the sound of Aezaeli’s voice, automatically tensing up and looking around in alarm. It took him a few seconds to remember that she was dead. Just her words lingered in his head. He took a shaky breath and rubbed his raw wrists where the silver cuffs had been only minutes before.

He wanted Din. He just wanted to know that they were safe. That Grogu was back and the three of them could go home. He wanted to go home.

Tears began to blur his vision as thoughts flooded his mind, but he forced them back. This wasn’t over yet.

Adrestia was suddenly in front of him, taking her blaster and slinging his arm around her shoulders again. “Come on,” She said quietly. “We’re almost there,”

The rest of the journey went quickly and unimpeded aside from the quick skirmish in the hall and the guards at the lab.

But Cato couldn’t think of any of that right now, all he could think about was that he was going to see his family again. _Din_. There was still an ache in his chest every time he thought of the Mandalorian. Adrestia insisted that he was alive but…

Adrestia kicked the button on the wall, the blast doors opening onto the bridge to reveal everyone gathered in one spot. At the sound of the doors opening, they all turned to face Cato and Adrestia and Cato was instantly focused on the familiar beskar helmet staring right at him.

“Cato,” he heard Din say and then he was almost running over to the siblings, stopping short a foot or two away.

Cato barely noticed that Adrestia had let go of him and stepped back, giving them space. All of his attention was focused on the Mandalorian in front of him and the small green child in his arms. He wasn’t even sure if he could feel the extent of whatever this was, it just felt too much.

“Cato—,” Din reached out a hand towards Cato’s face and instinctually Cato flinched back. Din’s movement stilled to the point where Cato wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Grogu let out a soft coo, tilting his head at Cato with a mournful expression. “Cato…are you...okay?” Din asked hesitantly. “Whose...whose blood is that?” he asked, a note of fear in his voice.

Looking down at himself, Cato could now see that thanks to the slit throat he was now more or less covered in blood. The whole front of his flimsy shirt was stained a rusty red and he could feel the sticky blood all on his neck and some tendrils on his face where Adrestia had probably grabbed him. His hands were also covered, trembling slightly as he looked at them. “I—,” the words stuck in his throat. “Mine,” He whispered hoarsely. “I–I—,” Cato nearly all but collapsed into Din’s arms, heaving in panicked breaths. Din immediately wrapped his arms around Cato, pulling him closer and holding on tightly, not caring how his new instincts were screaming at him to run.

Grogu cooed and nestled into Cato, laying small, comforting hands on Cato’s shaking form.

Cato clung to Din as if his life depended on it, as if Din would just vanish if he let go, as if he would somehow fall to the ground, dead, like Aezaeli had promised he was. He couldn’t seem to breathe right, as his ragged breathing grew quicker and shallower. For all intensive purposes, he was crying, except no tears came. Just relief so great it felt like panic.

“ _Gar yaimpar,_ ” Din murmured, the trio slowly sinking to the floor. “ _Gar ven jahaala, Ni’ve ganar gar. Ni’ve ganar gar. Gar ganar bintar yaimpar, mhi ven jahaala. Ni jorhaa’ir haat. Ni olar, ni jorhaa’ir haat. Ni ceta_ ,” Din said, voice hushed. “ _Ni ceta, ni ceta. Ni ven draar duumir kaysh togaanur gar tug’yc. Ni jorhaa’ir haat. Ni ven taylir gar bintar morut’yc, ni jorhaa’ir haat,_ ” he rambled on, voice barely being caught by the vocoder in his helmet.

_You’re back. You’ll be okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re both back, we’ll be okay. I promise. I’m here, I promise. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll never let them touch you again. I promise. I’ll keep you both safe, I promise._

Cato curled his fingers into Din’s cape and shirt, bunching the fabric as he held onto the Mandalorian. “ _Ni ceta, ni ceta, ni vandiir bic. Ni vandiir bic, _” he whispered fervently, barely comprehending what he was saying. _I deserved it, I deserved it_.__

__Din pulled back slightly, holding Cato’s face in his free hand, the other now supporting Cato as Grogu simply clung to Cato freely, one of Cato’s arms cradling him gently. “ _Meg…? Meg gar jorhaa’ir? Cyare? Meg—?_ ” he asked, searching for the meaning in Cato’s words._ _

__“What a _touching_ reunion,” a familiar voice called, making Cato immediately go rigid. Gideon._ _

__Din leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Cato’s briefly. “ _Kaysh n’ven kadala gar. Ni n’ven duumir kaysh pirebu gar,_ ” he promised quietly. _He won't hurt you. I won't let him near you._ Then, gently, he helped Cato to his feet, and the little family walked over to where everyone else was._ _

__Cato saw Adrestia standing with Bo-Katan and Koska, the three of them standing behind a cuffed Moff Gideon. Cara was also there and she gave Cato a tight lipped smile as he looked at her. He didn’t have the energy to return the gesture. The sixth person however was someone Cato had not expected to see at all or ever again._ _

__“You,” he had meant it to sound menacing, but it just came out confused. “I...I killed you,” he said, staring into the very alive face of Fennec Shand._ _

__The assassin shrugged. “Technically it was that bounty hunter friend of yours. But you certainly tried to,” she corrected nonchalantly._ _

__“No, I—,” Cato broke off. He thought he felt a flicker of anger but he was too exhausted. “I guess I should have done a better job,” he finished, narrowing his eyes at her._ _

__Din tugged Cato past Shand to Bo-Katan, who still stood on the slightly raised portion of the deck. Din grabbed something from his belt and held it up to her. “Take it, please,” he requested._ _

__Gideon laughed from the other side of Din, making Cato shudder. “I already told you, she can’t,” he said, a certain glee in his voice._ _

__Cato looked at the item Din held and was shocked to see a lightsaber hilt. He looked up at Bo-Katan, who was staring down the hilt with a locked jaw. The Darksaber. Din had the Darksaber._ _

__Bo-Katan looked away. “He’s right,” she said, voice tight._ _

__“Come on, just take it,” Din urged and Cato realised this is what they had been doing when he and Adrestia arrived._ _

__Before Bo-Katan could answer, an alarm started going off, drawing everyone’s attention. Cato held Grogu closer to his chest, fear creeping in._ _

__“Or perhaps she’ll get another crack at it,” Gideon commented casually._ _

__“The ray shields have been breached,” Fennec announced from over at one of the banks of computers. “We’re being boarded,”_ _

__“How many lifeforms?” Bo-Katan asked from her own bank of controls with Adrestia and Koska._ _

__“None,”_ _

__A shiver went through Cato and he felt as if the brand on his back started to grow warmer while an icy hand closer over his heart. The Dark Troopers._ _

__“You're about to face off with the Dark Troopers,” Gideon stated calmly. “You had your hands full with one,” He said mockingly, looking over at Din. “Let’s see how you do against a platoon,”_ _

__Cato could almost feel the familiar, ice cold metal grip of the dark troopers, their hands closing around him, focusing him to kneel and expose the back of his neck. The brand felt uncomfortably warm._ _

__“They’re headed this way,” Bo-Katan reported._ _

__Din glanced over at Cato and seemed to recognise the blank look of terror on his face. Gently, Din guided Cato up onto the raised part of the bridge, helping him sit down. Cato stared up at Din, his vision unfocused as bad thoughts swirled around in his head. He had a feeling the only reason he wasn’t completely out of it right now was the small warmth of Grogu’s hand on him, the child providing some kind of tether for Cato to cling to._ _

__“It’s going to be alright,” Din promised gently. “I’m gonna get you both out of here,”_ _

__Cato couldn’t even bring himself to nod._ _

__The bridge was a flurry of movement and preparation. Cato was aware of everyone moving to ready weapons and preparing for battle and he knew he should be doing the same but...he just couldn’t. His mind seemed frozen and his body refused to listen to him, keeping him leaning against one of the tables, just trying to breathe without too much pain._ _

__People were talking. He knew they were talking. Gideon was talking too. He even heard his name. But he couldn’t seem to process it. Everything was just too much. There was too much to think about._ _

__Grogu cooed quietly, looking up at Cato with tired eyes._ _

__“I’m sorry, _ad’ika_ ,” Cato murmured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough,” he winced as his forearms suddenly prickled with pain. The scars and strange lightning-like veins that now decorated his forearms were currently hidden by his sleeves, but Cato felt them and knew they were there. And they were reacting to something._ _

__A second alarm went off, Cato quickly looking away from his arms._ _

__“An x-wing,” Koska reported._ _

__“One x-wing? Great, we’re saved,” Cara muttered sarcastically._ _

__“Incoming craft, identify yourself?” Koska ordered over the communications to the x-wing._ _

___An x-wing? The New Republic was here? _Cato wondered. Then a moment of panic washed over him. He had to leave. He couldn’t be here if there were New Republic officers. They would ask questions and when they found out who he was they’d take him away. No, he couldn’t let that happen.__ _ _

____Grogu cooed again._ _ _ _

____Cato looked over at the door, an eerie silence having fallen. Anxiety pooled in him and he reached instinctively to his lightsaber, holding the weapon tightly._ _ _ _

____“Why did they stop?” Fennec asked._ _ _ _

____A tense silence followed as most everyone advanced closer to the doors, the tension in the air palpable._ _ _ _

____“A Jedi?” Bo-Katan whispered, looking at a security feed._ _ _ _

_____A Jedi?_ No, that’s impossible. Cato couldn’t process that. She must be mistaken._ _ _ _

____There was a familiar sound of a blaster firing and Cato started, and to his alarm watched as Koska fell, leaving him and Grogu right in the sights of Gideon, who levelled the blaster at them._ _ _ _

____Acting faster than he thought possible, Cato twisted around, barring his back to Gideon and shielding Grogu as he heard the blaster unload._ _ _ _

____Cato tensed, waiting for pain, but none came._ _ _ _

____“Drop it!” he heard someone shout._ _ _ _

____There was a grunt and a clatter and Cato made the risk of looking to see what had happened._ _ _ _

____Din sat up off the floor between Cato and Grogu and Gideon, breathing heavily. He noticed Gideon’s crumpled and unconscious body between Cara, Bo-Katan, and Fennec, Adrestia standing over the body with her glaive._ _ _ _

____“Cato,” Din breathed, wincing as he knelt in front of Cato and Grogu. “Are you okay? Are either of you hurt?” he asked._ _ _ _

____“No,” Cato whispered._ _ _ _

____Din nodded and carefully helped Cato to his feet before pulling him into another hug. He pulled Cato closer, holding him to his chest while Cato held Grogu between them. Cato rested his head against Din’s pauldron, wanting to just bury his face into the crook of his neck and completely break down. But he didn’t. this wasn’t over yet._ _ _ _

____Grogu cooed, drawing their attention. They broke apart for a moment and saw the child reaching towards the nearby bank of security feeds. With Din’s help, Cato brought Grogu to the feed, setting him down in front of the display._ _ _ _

____He reached out, placing his small hand on the screen and watched the cloaked individual who was slicing down Dark Troopers left and right with a weapon that Cato easily recognized as a lightsaber._ _ _ _

____Grogu cooed again, looking up at Cato and Din, who were both watching the feed with him._ _ _ _

____“Open the doors,” Din said, looking up from the screen. No one moved. “I said open the doors,” he repeated. Cato staggered slightly as Din shifted and started helping him over to a different control board._ _ _ _

____“Are you crazy?” Fennec hissed as they passed. Neither of them answered. They knew this is what needed to happen._ _ _ _

____At the control panel, Din carefully helped Cato into the seat and placed Grogu on his lap and then hit a button on the control board to open the doors._ _ _ _

____Cato winced as pain flared again and he squeezed Din’s hand so tightly his knuckles turned white._ _ _ _

____The blast doors started sliding open, the mechanics creaking and staggering slightly from the damage._ _ _ _

____The doors slid all the way open with a hiss and a cloaked figure walked in, green lightsaber ignited._ _ _ _

____They stepped into the room and extinguished the saber, clipping it onto their belt. Cato watched, half hidden by the back of the chair as they reached up and lifted the hood from their head, revealing a face Cato thought he would never see again._ _ _ _

____It felt like Cato had just been punched in the chest, the air suddenly ripped from his lungs as he drowned in silent chaos. His stomach twisted and his mind was racing. This was impossible. It was his mind playing tricks on him. He was hallucinating. This wasn’t real. It _couldn’t_ be._ _ _ _

____“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked, having stepped forward ahead of the group._ _ _ _

____“I am,”_ _ _ _

____Cato tensed as Luke spoke, his voice even and calm. He looked the part as well, a neutral and professional expression on his face. Is this what had happened? Luke became a Jedi? A _proper_ Jedi?_ _ _ _

____“Luke,”_ _ _ _

____The name escaped him before he could stop it, no more than a hoarse, disbelieving whisper. But it was enough to catch his attention._ _ _ _

____Cato held Grogu close and stood, gripping the back of the chair tightly in an effort to not immediately fall. He stayed for a moment, staring at Luke with wide eyes. Then he took a couple steps forward, almost falling to the floor as his leg threatened to give out under him._ _ _ _

____A few more steps and he stood shoulder to shoulder with Din, who gently took Grogu from him. But Cato barely noticed, all his attention focused on Luke. He took a few more steps, not straying too far for fear of collapsing._ _ _ _

____“Cato?” Luke asked, voice deathly quiet. His eyebrows knit together, searching Cato up and down. Then his mask of stoic professionalism crumbled. “Cato,” he quickly closed the few yards between them, enveloping Cato in a hug._ _ _ _

____One of his hands gently held the back of Cato’s head, the other on his mid back. Cato could feel Luke’s breath on his shoulder as the blond held him close, though not tightly out of respect to his injuries._ _ _ _

____Cato was in a daze, eyes still locked on where Luke had been a moment before and arms hanging limply at his side. Then, he carefully lifted them, bringing them around to rest on the Jedi’s back, hugging back. The motions felt a bit robotic and Cato’s mind was still reeling, trying to process everything. Luke was...here?_ _ _ _

____Then Luke pulled back holding Cato at arms length and looking him over. “You’re alive,” he breathed. “I thought...what _happened_?” He asked. “I came back and everyone said you were gone. We looked for you but…” he searched Cato’s face, blue eyes holding a new element of awareness that previously Cato had only seen on occasion. “I couldn’t find you. Not even through the Force,” he said. “What happened?”_ _ _ _

____Cato shook his head slightly, disbelief still running rampant. “The child,” he croaked. “You answered the child,”_ _ _ _

____Luke nodded and Cato saw the calm expression surface again. He looked over Cato’s shoulder at Din, who held Grogu in his arms. With another searching glance at Cato, Luke gently let go of him and took a step past him towards Din, reaching out a hand to Grogu._ _ _ _

____“Come, little one,” he said._ _ _ _

____Grogu looked at the hand and then past Luke to Cato and then up at Din, cooing softly._ _ _ _

____Din looked down at the child. “He doesn’t want to go with you,” he said, and Cato saw his grip tighten a tiny amount on the child._ _ _ _

____“He wants your permission,” Luke corrected. “He is strong with the Force. But talent without training is nothing,” he warned. “I will give my life to protect the child’s, but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.”_ _ _ _

____Din looked down at the child in his arms, taking a half step towards Luke. “Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind,” he said gently. “I’ll see you again. I promise.” And Cato could hear the emotion in his voice, dangerously close to cracking._ _ _ _

____Grogu cooed softly and gently lifted a hand, running his little fingers over one of the hollowed cheeks of Din’s helmet._ _ _ _

____Din shifted Grogu slightly and lifted one of his hands to the rim of his helmet. Cato took a half step forward, moving on instinct to protect his identity. But then stopped himself. This wasn’t his choice. Din lifted the helmet off, setting it on the floor and it felt like Cato was seeing the stars for the first time again._ _ _ _

____Tears pricked Cato’s eyes involuntarily as he stared at Din, unable to look away. His hair was dark and messy, sticking up in odd places from the helmet. His eyes were dark and the bags under them told Cato he had not slept well in a while. Cato’s gaze raked across his face, studying the stubble across his jaw that he was used to running his hands over, the crease in his brow, everything. Everything. It was almost too much._ _ _ _

____“Come on, pal,” Din murmured quietly to Grogu as the kid ran a hand over his cheek. “It’s time to go,” Cato saw Grogu’s ears droop and heard Din whisper something so quietly he couldn’t be sure what he said._ _ _ _

____Then, Din carefully set Grogu on the ground, looking up and meeting Cato’s eyes briefly before looking back down to the child._ _ _ _

____A familiar whistling behind Cato made him look over his shoulder and he saw with surprise that R2-D2 was rolling into the room._ _ _ _

____The droid whistled and trilled as he saw Cato, rolling up to bump into Cato’s leg in what was probably supposed to be the next best thing to affection. Cato grit his teeth against the pain and reached down to pat the droid’s dome._ _ _ _

____“Hey, R2,” he murmured. “It’s been a while,”_ _ _ _

____The droid whistled back in response and then rolled past to stand by Luke, continuing to beep and whistle as Grogu approached._ _ _ _

____Cato took a couple steps closer so he was standing in line with Luke and R2._ _ _ _

____Grogu looked up and Cato and reached up for him._ _ _ _

____Luke graciously knelt and lifted him, handing him to Cato, who cradled him closely._ _ _ _

____“I guess this is it, huh?” Cato asked, vision already blurring with tears. He blinked them back quickly and smiled down at the child. “I’ve been dreading this day for a while now. Kept thinking maybe...maybe you’d stay,”_ _ _ _

____Grogu cooed, looking back at Din and Cato shook his head quickly, guessing at what he was trying to communicate. “No. It’s your life, _ad’ika_. I can’t make this decision for you, neither of us can. You do—,” Cato took a shuddering breath as a sob threatened to claw its way up his throat. “You do what you want. No one else can tell you what you want or what to do.” He pursed his lips into a thin line and ran a hand along one of Grogu’s ears. Then he carefully pressed a kiss to Grogu’s forehead. “We’ll miss you,” he said quietly, earning a soft coo in response. “ _N'chaab_ ,” _no fear.__ _ _ _

____He smiled down at Grogu and then carefully handed him back to Luke, who took him and then looked at Cato, confusion subtly written across his features._ _ _ _

____“You’re not coming?” He asked. Cato shook his head. “Cato, you’re hurt. I can get you help, Han and Leia— _everyone_ —would be so happy to see you. You could complete your training—,”_ _ _ _

____“I’m not a Jedi,” Cato interrupted. “And while I miss Han and Leia and you, I...I’m dying, Luke. I’m _dying_ and I can’t…” he looked back at Din. “I’ve found myself here. I can’t go with you. I would rather die a thousand times than leave the happiness I’ve found here.”_ _ _ _

____Luke regarded Cato for a moment and then glanced at Din before looking back at Cato. “I don’t want you to be in pain. I don’t want you to die.” He said and Cato could hear the familiar note in his voice of the young rebel who he had once been in love with._ _ _ _

____A sad smile found its way onto Cato’s lips. “You’re a Jedi, you understand that death is natural and unavoidable,” he said. Luke nodded, though Cato was versed enough in reading him that he knew he admitted it with hesitance, looking for a loophole. “And the pain I suffer from my wounds would be nothing compared to the void that would consume me if I went with you. I belong here.”_ _ _ _

____Luke nodded once more, accepting Cato’s answer. “May the Force be with you,” he said quietly. Cato inclined his head in acknowledgement and then Luke turned to Din, repeating the phrase to the Mandalorian before turning and walking out of the room, taking Grogu with him._ _ _ _

____Cato counted to five after they left, holding his breath and keeping his muscles tense. Then as soon as he hit five, he let go, collapsing to the ground as silent, choked sobs built in his chest. The combination of the physical pain he was in, the stress of the rescue, the relief of being reunited with Din, Grogu, Adrestia, and the others, seeing Luke again, _seeing_ Din, and now saying goodbye to Grogu? It was too much._ _ _ _

____Uneven breaths wracked Cato’s chest, the pain in his lungs resurfacing at the aggravation. Sobs clawed their way out of him, tangled with painful breaths and shudders that left everything feeling brittle and unsteady._ _ _ _

____His eyes burned as a couple tears fell, sliding down his cheeks and onto the cold floor._ _ _ _

____“Cato,” a comforting hand on his back made him look up and he saw Din crouching beside him, helmet still off. “Cato, it’s okay,” he said, eyes staring into Cato’s with such raw emotion that Cato knew he could feel this—this deep pain, like hunger and nothingness gnawing at the edges of his very soul._ _ _ _

____Gently—and carefully so as not to agitate any wounds—Din lifted Cato into a sitting position and then pulled him close, enveloping him in a hug that Cato didn’t hesitate to return._ _ _ _

____“I know,” he murmured into Cato’s hair. “I know,”_ _ _ _

____Cato tried to speak, but only jumbled and disjointed words came out. He squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in the crook of Din’s neck and holding his breath to try to stem the sobs. He clung to Din like he was Cato’s lifeline, hands knotted in his cape, but they slowly began to drift upwards towards the back of Din’s neck, travelling up to run through soft hair._ _ _ _

____Cato felt Din tracing shapes onto his back, giving something for Cato to focus on as he tried to slow his breathing._ _ _ _

____A minute or two passed and Cato pulled back slightly, hands moving to cup Din’s face. Cato couldn’t help but look over Din’s face again, trying to commit every line to memory, hoping to burn the image into his mind._ _ _ _

____His eyes were brown—something that he had told Cato once while they lay beside each other in his bed on Kreios._ _ _ _

_____“What colour are your eyes?” Cato had asked curiously, playing idly with a lock of his hair while the two lay facing each other in the darkness._ _ _ _ _

_____“Brown,” Din had answered simply._ _ _ _ _

_____Brown_. Cato didn’t care if he had seen every shade of brown in the galaxy. Looking into Din’s eyes made him feel like he was seeing the colour for the first time. Rich earthy browns that ranged from almost black to a soft, deep amber. It was like thousand lives could be seen, each rising from the rich soil to grow and grow and grow until they all came crashing down again. From whence we came, we shall return._ _ _ _

____Cato decided that Din’s eyes were the colour of the galaxy. Not blue or green or purple or anything else. But brown, for the life that welled in every corner._ _ _ _

____“Cato—,”_ _ _ _

____“You’re beautiful,” Cato whispered, cutting him off before he could finish._ _ _ _

____A rush of colour filled Din’s cheeks and he looked away quickly, focusing on Cato’s arm instead, but the small, sheepish smile on his face was still visible._ _ _ _

____“I...I uh…” he cleared his throat and looked back at Cato, something unintelligible written across his features._ _ _ _

____Cato didn’t have time to dwell on it though because Din leaned forward unexpectedly, catching his lips in a sweet and gentle kiss._ _ _ _

____They lingered for a moment, tasting the grief and pain, but also hope that tainted their lips. Then they pulled back, resting their foreheads together while they held each other in an embrace._ _ _ _

____Din clasped one of Cato’s hands in his, pressing something into his palm._ _ _ _

____“It may not be a good time, but…”_ _ _ _

____Cato glanced down as Din went back to holding Cato’s face, keeping them close. In his palm a simple, silver ring now sat, faint waves in the grain were visible beneath the surface of the metal, giving it a watery sheen. _Beskar_._ _ _ _

____“Marry me?” Din whispered, barely audible._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I think all the Mando'a is translated in text, so unless someone requests a glossary I'm not gonna add that to this chapter)
> 
> Holy fucking shit you guys. We did it! We made it to the end of s2! 
> 
> Also, I don't think I've said it here yet, but Din has been carrying that ring around since chapter 1 of book 1. He had it made with some of the excess from the first beskar pauldron the Armourer made for him. 
> 
> Anyways, holy fuck what a time. And now you all have to wait a year (I mean, I do too). 
> 
> There's some parts of this chapter I want to rewrite because they are a little iffy, but I need to let it sit for a bit, then I'll go back and do my editing sweeps. 
> 
> In the meantime, I will be adding a couple bonus chapter from Cato and Din's (in the When We Were Strangers book) story pre-s1 and trying to decide how to spend my time next. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all decide to stick around!


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